


Alaska Trekkers

by Desiderius_Price (Dragon_Voldemort)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal, Angst, Bi, Complete, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape, Threesome, Voyeurism, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 47
Words: 206,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Voldemort/pseuds/Desiderius_Price
Summary: Three teen boys skip out on an all-summer Bible Camp where poor planning forces them into the buff, while a fourth boy fails in his attempt to cover it up.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Final

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite/revision of the story posted to AFF.

**69 USC § 1504:** Any person between the ages of ten and twenty one who knowingly and willfully pursues activities outside the legal advice and guidance of their parent(s) or guardian(s), is guilty of a misdemeanor punishable by up to one year in prison or appropriate remedial sanctions.

Tuesday, June 16th

Two months shy of sixteen, Risley drew on the tablet, sketched a hand individually placing colorful round planets around a bright sun with fingers flicking to give the heavenly bodies a circular motion around the central sun. Warm black plastic of the tablet rested upon his elevated bare knees exposed by the holes in his loose black jeans, his butt on the hardwood floor of this very warm forest green attic bedroom with a large single vertical window, and back against the shelves. With a white sleeveless sweat damp shirt on him, he focused his eyes below his brown hair on the tablet, as he was not alone. Three other teenage boys, already sixteen, were there and barefooted like Risley.

Drip

A water drop fell from the spigot of one of the large open pitchers on the desk next to Risley down to the floor; the other one had iced tea. A second drip reminded Risley of the pressure of a building urgency below his belt.

“Can you wipe that up?” asked the golden brown haired Cody laying on the couch near the door, red T–shirt and snug blue jeans.

“With what?” Risley asked.

“Your shirt,” said Grant, with more blond than brown hair, sweat dripped onto his long sleeved yellow and black horizontally striped sweater, while sitting on the desk chair. On the desk were a stack of books on the desk, pizza boxes, and several two liter bottles of soda, along with the pitchers and Grant’s tablet.

“No!” Cody snapped, as he pointed to the fourth boy, blue eyed Ifor was on Cody’s bed. Ifor had an unbuttoned olive drab shirt, which exposed the nipples through the belly button of a medium built chest, and a light trail of fuzz down to where it met the blue jeans. “He’s bad enough!”

“I’m sweating,” Grant said.

“It’s warm,” Ifor protested.

“I’ll go and see about the air conditioner,” Cody said.

“Your family’s already on its third power notice for the month,” Ifor said, “One more—”

“Drip!” Cody snapped.

“It’s just water,” Grant said as he nibbled at a slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza.

“It’s MY bedroom,” Cody said, “I don’t want to explain the damage!”

“Besides,” Risley said, “We’ve hiked shirtless before on Wild Trekkers—”

“Out of sight!” Cody said.

“And it’s your bedroom,” Risley said.

“Careful,” Ifor said, “Overheard two cops bragging about busting over that.”

“Wish you’d cover up before Mom finds out,” Cody said.

“Only if you rat us out,” Grant said, “It’s like speeding, their folks would rather they get ticketed than to overheat. Mine—well—”

“Lord knows how many times they’ve been scolded,” Cody said, “My parents granted me the use of this bedroom on the condition—”

“Let’s get this blasted thing finished,” Ifor said, “Can we get our fifteen quotes?”

“Got thirty seven,” Cody said, flipping through his copy of the King James Bible, “Wish you’d be more familiar with this.”

“It’s big, dusty, and wordy,” Risley said, working his finger to draw two adjacent circles between vertical lines, before adding in two small dots.

“What are you drawing?” Grant asked as Risley’s tablet vibrated, shut itself off.

“Nothing,” Risley said, pressing both volume buttons and the power button.

“You’re drawing naughties, again?” Cody asked.

“No, no,” Risley said, “Obviously a misunderstanding.”

Ifor chuckled.

“How soon until an angel shows up?” Cody asked.

“They won’t,” Risley stated as the tablet came to the welcome screen. Risley tapped and returned to his drawing, missing the circles.

Another drip from the pitchers.

“Please,” Cody said.

“You wanted those,” Grant said, drinking straight from a two litter bottle of cola.

“Better than abusing—your body’s supposed to be a temple,” Cody said, “Treat it that way.”

“Second the pop,” Risley said, despite the pressure beneath the pants, not wanting to take a break, not yet.

“Is there any Hawaiian left?” Ifor asked.

“Here,” Grant said, handing the pizza box over, setting it on the white sheets, “Two slices.”

“Grease!” Cody said, “I have to sleep on that.”

Ifor pulled both slices off the box, set them directly onto the white cloth, before tossing the box toward Cody. Cody grabbed the box and flicked it as a frisbee toward the desk.

“Grant!” Ifor barked.

“What?!” Grant begun to spin, his elbow knocked against the books.

“Watch—” Cody started.

In the corner of the eye, Risley caught the motion, but only soon enough to shove his tablet upward as the tumbling books knocked over both of the open bottles of soda. Cola began to splash toward Risley while the books continued to tip the pitchers over. Cold icy water joined the iced tea in pouring straight onto Risley, soaking his jeans as foamy soda foamed across him. Iced water slipped beneath his belt, rapidly chilled his crotch.

“Get—” Ifor started.

Risley, though, slipped his fingers beneath his belt, pushed as he scrambled up; his black jeans and his purple underwear dropped to the floor. In a split second, he realized his balls and penis were now exposed beneath his brown pubic hair, and he yanked his shirt off. As he brought his bundled shirt to hug his genitals, Risley felt the sudden, uncontrollable, release as his intact penis peed into it.

“Oh,” Grant said, “Um…sorry.”

Cody rushed for the clothes hamper, pulled out a towel.

“Don’t just stand there,” Cody said as he threw the towel at Risley.

“I…” Risley muttered, let the towel drop, while he kept the shirt pressed as he peed.

“You’re naked in MY bedroom,” Cody said, “Cover up.”

“The floor first,” Grant said as he bent over to reach the towel. Grant glanced at Risley’s yellowing shirt. “Are you—”

“Shut up, please,” Risley said, smelling the rich odor as he kept pissing.

“Any more towels?” Ifor asked.

“I’ll help,” Grant said as he ran to follow Cody down the stairs.

“Well, when you gotta go,” Ifor said to Risley.

“I know,” Risley said as he pulled the shirt a bit away; he wiped his softness.

“With you naked,” Ifor said as he pulled his olive drab shirt off, “This ain’t a problem.”

“J,” Risley said as he grabbed his tablet.

“No!” Ifor said, “Unless you want to be explaining why you’ve got a jail–broken tablet. They’re even expecting a pengu to show up!”

“I saw her tits,” Risley said.

“No wonder—think about the consequences first!” Ifor said, “We’ve all been on rides with my Dad, cops bust for way less, might even send janitorial your way!”

Risley dropped his yellowed white shirt to the floor.

“Here!” Cody exclaimed coming up the steps with a bundle of folded white towels.

Risley grabbed some towels. He bent over as he helped mop up the spilled water, iced tea, and soda.

“Stop mooning me!” Grant said as he came up the steps.

“Cover up!” Cody said to Risley.

Risley stood up as he grabbed his tablet, held it close. His penis stiffened fast.

“Your floor,” Risley said while trying to figure how best to hide his dick.

“I’ll worry about the floor,” Cody said, “You cover up, fast!”

Risley sat on the desk, twisted as best as he could while keeping his legs over the edge, but still ended up facing Ifor. Risley put the tablet on his lap, against his hard erection, and returned to his work. Ifor, with a bit of exposed armpit hair, laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Cody said.

“It’s mopped up,” Grant stated.

“I’ll send these down to my Mom,” Cody said as he grabbed Risley’s yellow stained shirt, “Eww…”

“Sure,” Risley said.

Towels joined Risley’s clothes into the hamper, and Cody dragged it down the steps.

“I was—” Grant started.

“Couch,” Ifor suggested.

Grant, though, stood nearby, watched as Risley drew. Risley held the tablet firm with his left hand, the only thing covering his boner and balls beneath the thing.

“Why’s the tablet still working?” Grant asked.

“Good question,” Cody said, as he returned, “It ought to be calling the cops by now, despite the fact it was an accident.”

Risley didn’t respond, uncertain how to talk around the fact it was a jail broken tablet, one that would not report on him.

“Busted camera,” Ifor said, “Mine too.”

“Thank you,” Risley mouthed toward Ifor.

An itch, Risley held the tablet with his right hand as his left fingers reached beneath, teased the bit of the glans poking out of his foreskin.

“Don’t play with yourself,” Cody said as he sat on the bed near Ifor, though shied away from the shirtless boy.

“Why would I?” Risley replied, uncertain.

Risley’s erection soaked in heat from the tablet as it loitered beneath. Grant sat on the desk next to Risley, watched the screen.

“Here,” Grant said as he handed a comb over.

Risley brought it to his head.

“I meant—” Grant lowered his voice, whispered. “Down there.”

“Oh,” Risley whispered back, he could see as Grant could see, where the tablet was too big to seat tightly, instead, the knotted wafts of pubic hair were to either side of the visible stiff base of his hard dick beneath. Risley ran the comb through, pulled out the knots.

“Now you’re going to have to burn that,” Cody said.

“Sorry,” Grant whispered to Risley.

Ifor’s stomach moved as he chuckled.

“It’s not funny,” Cody said, his hand pointed at Risley, “He’s—he’s—”

“Yes!” Risley snapped as he pulled the tablet to the side, “I popped a boner!”

“I was trying to be…understanding,” Grant said.

“Thank you,” Risley replied, now aware all three of them were now focused upon the stiff erection between his legs, the only thing hiding the loose balls beneath, and his crop of dark brown pubic hair.

Risley brought his right leg up, foot beneath his left knee, sighed and resigned himself to a visible hard dick as he placed his tablet onto his right knee. Risley kept glancing at his penis, the pink glans fully exposed with his retracted foreskin and a damp slit, kept hoping for it to soften, but it stubbornly remained and even twitched from the attention.

“There,” Grant said, pointed to the corner of the tablet, “Thought we were going to use pool sticks.”

“Already got one,” Risley grumbled, eyed the adjacent hard cock against the side of the tablet.

“Here,” Grant whispered as he pulled his black and yellow knitted sweater up, revealed his bare chest.

“No shirt?” Cody stammered.

“It’s SUMMER!” Grant retorted before he whispered to Risley, “Don’t piss it.”

“Your grandmother knitted—no,” Risley said, handed it back.

Grant threw it onto the shelf before he sat cross–legged to Risley’s right on the desk.

“Then ignore it,” Grant suggested as he leaned toward Risley, “Here.”

Grant’s left fingers reached, dropped in the pool stick from the clip art.

“Thanks,” Risley whispered, the sympathy eased his apprehension.

“Shit happens,” Grant whispered.

“Can you…like…” Cody started, his face turned crimson as he glared.

“Need a better look?” Risley snapped, moved the tablet away from the hard dick.

“No, no,” Cody replied.

“Back off!” Ifor said, “You’ve had your share—”

“Remember when—” Grant started.

“This isn’t like that!” Cody said, “It’s my bedroom—and he’s—”

“Shout it louder,” Ifor said.

“You love staring at it,” Risley stated, pointed to his hard dick.

“No, no,” Cody said as he shook his head.

“Nice,” Grant whispered to Risley.

“This is due tomorrow,” Ifor reminded.

“It’s…” Cody went quiet for a moment, “We’d go faster with four tablets—luckily your two are busted enough to ignore that.”

“Lucky,” Risley said, “Or I’d take a picture of you two, right now.”

“No!” Cody said, “It’d ruin my seminary placement.”

“Fine,” Ifor said, “It’d cut off another lawyer before he graduates, make my job easier.”

“We need the rules your Dad enforces to keep a civil and spiritual society,” Cody said, “Rules such as not parading your privates around another’s bedroom.”

“Kiss it!” Risley snapped.

“You got something for him?” Ifor asked Cody.

“Wouldn’t fit,” Cody said.

“See?” Grant said, “I’m going to see worse when I become a stupid plumber.”

Risley grabbed his tablet, placed it between his knees as he turned, with his hard dick loitering above it. He tapped as he drew, faced Grant, both heads bent down together, peering past their nipples to the tablet between them.

“What are you going to be?” Ifor asked.

“Like I’ve got a choice either,” Risley said, “Mom’s already signed me up, civil engineer, like that’s important.”

“They build bridges, right?” Grant asked as his fingers pointed on the tablet.

“And roads and plumbing,” Risley said, “My…mess, for instance, is going through the pipes right now.”

“Accidents happen,” Grant said, “Here.”

Grant’s fingers worked the screen, adding mountains as his hand brushed against the pink glans.

“Keep working,” Risley said.

“Are you two—” Cody started.

“Focus on your work,” Grant said, “Got the scriptures?”

“Yes,” Cody replied.

“Want anything else with this report?” Ifor asked, “Your animation, for instance?”

“We’ll get it done,” Grant assured.

“Yeah,” Risley said.

Together, Risley and Grant kept working, their focus on the animation on the tablet between Risley’s legs. Risley’s nerves soothed themselves, and his penis began to retract.

“Finally,” Risley muttered.

“Can see the moon now,” Grant replied.

“You two!” Cody said, “You’re trying to get us busted.”

“Takes a tattletale,” Grant said.

“Alerts!” Cody said, “Lord, forgive us.”

“You’ve ridden with the squad too,” Ifor said, “They don’t bust over a single wiener.”

“How many does it take?” Cody said, “Not to mention it’s unholy.”

“A sock would work,” Grant said.

“And stay on?” Risley said, “I’m fine now.” He was, he knew Grant would keep this secret, well, secret.

“Maybe it’s why the Lord directed you all to that camp,” Cody said.

Cody’s eyes and head moved. Risley knew the rules they were breaking, him naked, Ifor and Grant shirtless, even in a bedroom despite them all being of similar age.

“I heard something—vaguely,” Grant said, “What about it?”

“Dad thinks it’d look good for the police academy,” Ifor said as he pulled out a glossy pamphlet, “Junior Trekker at vacation bible study.”

“Ew,” Grant said, “I’d rather watch your penis, Risley.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” Risley whispered.

“Really, it’s not bad,” Grant said, glancing down upon the softness with the pink glans exposed beneath the still retracted foreskin.

“You’re lying,” Risley said, “But thanks.”

“Any time,” Grant replied.

Grant worked to animate the hand on the tablet, the plastic slid a bit, until he showed the moon being used as a cue ball. Grant reached to hit save when his right hand brushed against Risley’s loose balls.

“Sorry,” Grant said as Risley moved the tablet forward.

“Will you stop playing?!” Cody demanded.

“Relax,” Ifor said, “It’s accidental.”

“Looks bad and wrong,” Cody said.

“We’re trying to work on the project!” Grant snapped.

“It justifies the camp!” Cody said.

“Are we actually going?” Grant asked.

“Just like Dad,” Ifor said, “Doesn’t bother to ask if we’ve got any summer plans—”

“But you don’t,” Grant said.

“That’s beside the point!” Ifor said, “It’s why I had to go to the station, he wanted to tell me personally!”

“Now we need Adam and Eve,” Grant said.

“Don’t draw it, use the clip art,” Risley said, recognizing the grin.

“Needs realism,” Grant said.

“Don’t!” Cody said.

Quickly, Grant adjusted the genitals on Adam, brought them to match Risley’s.

“I’m not—” Risley started.

“Just say we found a different clip art,” Grant said, “And you’re flashing every girl in class.”

Ifor laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Cody said.

“Your camera—” Grant whispered, “Does work?”

“Shh!” Risley hushed at him.

“It’s even letting me—” Grant said, “Not supposed to—”

“Do what?” Cody asked.

“Nothing,” Grant said.

Grant transferred the likeness of Risley, a complete model with pubic hair, testicles, penis, to replace those parts on the Adam clip art. He took the penis, duplicated it, and stretched it into a long snake, added eyes. A long tongue came from the slit. This Adam’s soft penis swung, the same one attached to Risley, to reveal the loose balls behind it.

“Don’t get us into trouble!” Cody snapped.

“Please…” Risley started, until he recognized the determined face he’s seen before, the troublemaker, Grant’s specialty.

“Apart from us,” Grant whispered, “Who else would even recognize it as truth? … Wait, it already has a model? Augmenting so it’ll pop.”

“Yeah, you need camp,” Cody said.

“Gotta be a prank from my brother,” Grant said, “I mean, like my folks could afford that, all summer camp?”

“The squad has you beat,” Ifor said, “Some deal…scholarship? Dad said it’s already paid for, because of our Golden Claw awards.”

“What?” Risley asked, “So my Dad wasn’t blowing smoke?”

“What’s the name of the dump?” Grant asked.

“Beacon of the Light?!” Cody stammered as he read the pamphlet. He stood and jumped. “YES! Thank the Lord! I’ve been asking—how long is it?”

“All…summer…long,” Ifor said, “Oh, Dad assured we’d be back in time for me to go to the police academy, never mind I’d rather be an actor.”

“Tell him you’d rather join me, become a plumber,” Grant said, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Nothing more fascinating than putting my fingers down somebody’s trap to pull out their gunk.”

“Send me the drawings,” Ifor said to Grant.

“Umm…” Risley muttered before he relented. Him, naked including his genitals, was about to go into their final project, and being in the Garden of Eden, it would not get filtered out.

“Bold,” Ifor said as he moved his tablet away from Cody, “I like it.”

“Can I see it?” Cody asked.

“No,” Ifor stated.

“It’s my grade too,” Cody protested.

“It’s…authentic,” Ifor said, “Don’t worry, your quotes will cover it up.”

Grant shook his head.

“Relax, will you?” Risley asked Cody, “It’s our portrayal.”

“You’re fine with this?” Ifor asked Risley.

“It’s better than clip art,” Risley said, feeling a bit better about it. This wasn’t the first time his balls have made it onto his tablet, been shared. “Yeah, let it go in.”

“Those balls should be bigger,” Grant said.

“He’s—blushing!” Ifor exclaimed.

“STOP IT!” Cody said, “One wrong peep, and we’re all shit into trouble!”

“He’s relaxed about it,” Grant said, hand pointed at Risley’s balls, “So should you.”

“Camp it is,” Cody said, “Teach you to cover up!”

“How’s the wash?” Risley asked.

“It’ll be…fuck, won’t be done before curfew,” Cody said.

“Well, I’m not leaving you two alone together,” Ifor said, “No telling what you’d get up to with him naked.”

“Thank you,” Cody said while glaring at Ifor.

“Here, take a look,” Ifor said handing the tablet over.

Cody swiped.

“It’s good,” Cody said, “Get a good score so long as he ignores your PICTURE!”

“Oh, share with everybody,” Grant said, “Entire thing, because—well, it can’t be out of context.”

“Don’t you dare—” Cody started, “With my name attached—”

“I’ll credit that page to Risley,” Ifor said as he swiped and tapped, “There, it’s in.”

A chime and a buzz of the tablet.

“Confirmed,” Ifor said.

“If my spot at seminary gets scuttled—” Cody started.

“Maybe it’ll scuttle my career as a civil engineer—maybe?” Risley said, “Always hope.”

“If the world catches fire, my police career is still not in doubt,” Ifor said with gloom.

Chiming of the clock came from downstairs.

“Curfew!” Cody snapped, “Shit!”

“I’ll message Dad,” Ifor said as he tapped on his tablet.

“Just begun,” Grant said, “I’ll get away—”

“And make your—” Cody counted on his fingers “—third citation this month? Nah, God can overlook it.” He got up, dropped his black jeans, to show the bulge at the base of his white underwear peeking out from beneath the hem of his red T–shirt.

“And you worried—” Grant started.

“It’s bedtime,” Cody said as he crossed over to the closet by the door, pulled out blankets and a sleeping bag. “Two will have to share—”

“The bed,” Grant said.

Cody glared.

“It is bigger,” Ifor said, revealing his olive green briefs as he removed his blue jeans, “Risley—that’s you.”

Grant stood, dropped his black jeans to show loose yellow briefs, a bit of a slit poked out.

“Hey, best I can—” Grant started.

“I’ve got none on,” Risley said as he felt the heat, the penis undecided on stiffening.

“Before you—” Cody knelt by the edge of his bed, placed his hands together.

“Thank You ‘oh Lord for another wonderful and blessed day,” Cody said, “Thank you for friendship, and may you guide me even further, teaching me what needs to be learned tomorrow. Amen.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Ifor said, moving over, “Grant—excuse me—you’re the smallest.”

“With him?” Grant asked.

“I’m a gracious host,” Cody said, “Whatever.”

“It’s fine,” Risley said.

“Bathroom,” Ifor said as he got up.

“Avoid getting seen,” Cody said, “I best…he can’t.”

“Go,” Grant said as Ifor and Cody left. Grant handed a cup to Risley, before he did a deliberate turn around. “I’ll…deal with it.”

Risley stood, held the cup with his left hand, while his right aimed. It took a moment, before the yellow poured out.

“Thank you,” Risley said, smelling the richness of his warm liquid as he peed.

“You’re a good sport about it,” Grant said.

“Like you said, shit happens,” Risley said, “Thanks for understanding.”

“Cody…” Grant said.

“He’d have a meltdown if he knew I was taking another leak in his bedroom,” Risley said, tapping his dick against the glass.

“He’s two seconds—” Grant started.

Risley handed the cup over to Grant. Cody glared as Grant carried it out.

“You’re enjoying this!” Cody said as he returned, a small yellow stain to his white briefs beneath his red T–shirt.

“If it weren’t for you knocking those pitchers into my lap—” Risley started.

“He said, she said—we know what happened the last time he tried to keep a spare change of clothes here,” Ifor said as he entered the bedroom, bare chest with the classic bulge on his green underwear, “So, water under the bridge, friends?”

Risley extended his hand, Cody shook it.

“You know me,” Cody said.

“Yes we do,” Risley said, “Friends.”

Cody smiled.

“He’ll sleep naked—yes, it’s illegal,” Ifor said, “But we’ll keep our little secret, agreed?”

“Yes,” Grant said as he returned, in his yellow underwear.

“Pray for forgiveness,” Cody said.

“Done,” Risley lied.

Courage surged in Risley, his penis soaked it in and rapidly stiffened into a hard erection that jutted outward toward them.

“He’s happy,” Ifor stated.

“Bed,” Grant said, sitting onto the bed.

Cody sat on the sleeping bag, while Ifor laid on the couch. Ifor pulled a blanket over his waist and began to shuffle as he bent his legs beneath it.

“Lights please, since you’re still up,” Cody said as he climbed into the sleeping bag beneath Risley.

Risley, though, grabbed the glossy pamphlet for the camp. Typical for a younger boys summer camp, depicting swimming in a shirt and shorts, leather arts and crafts, trees, boats, and fires. Christian crosses were everywhere on it.

“Beacon of the Light,” Risley said, “It’s—”

“Can you at least move so I don’t have to see your fucking balls!” Cody asked.

“You’re staring at them?” Ifor asked as he dropped his olive green briefs onto the floor.

“Nothing else above me,” Cody replied, “Unless you count that match stick!”

“It’s my dick,” Risley stated.

“It’s more than a match stick,” Grant said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ifor said, chiming in.

Risley leaned back against the edge of the desk.

“Hide my butt?” Risley asked.

“Thank you,” Cody sneered.

“This camp?” Grant asked as he stepped over to grab the pamphlet.

“I’d rather go for a walk,” Risley said, “Naked, if I had to.”

Grant stepped back, sat on the bed, studied the glossy paper.

“Beacon of the Light is a wonderful camp,” Cody said, now propped up on his elbows, “Singing, study, praying, nature, crafts … I understand you can make a leather satchel for carrying your bible and other essentials. A recreation for the Garden of Eden, complete with an apple tree and a snake.” He glanced at Ifor. “They do have a thespian option that you might be interested in.”

“I’m liking Risley’s open better and better,” Grant said, flipping the pages, “Even if I had to stare at his dick.”

“I didn’t—” Risley started.

“It’s not structured, there’s no real schedule apart from being a camp,” Cody said, “Do what you want to do, when you want to do it. I want to see if they have the other gospels. As to you, it is Alaska, so you could certainly take a stroll—dressed.”

“Alaska?” Grant asked as he flipped the brochure to its back, “It is. How are we even supposed to get there?”

“Airfare included,” Ifor panned.

“Good hiking there,” Risley said.

“You can get lost up there,” Ifor said, “This one lady came in to file a missing person—”

“I’d rather get lost,” Risley said as his hand adjusted his balls, held them, “Over that!”

“By golly, you’ve got a plan,” Grant said, smile across his face, “Whole summer—don’t you get it? We … skip … camp.”

“It’s a good camp,” Cody said, “Or… Rather play at the senior center—your service opportunity?”

“That thing?” Grant said, “Gotta admit, it’s fucking brilliant Risley. We just skip out—”

“Leave Sunday,” Cody said, “Can hardly wait, months of cheer and song, sounds exciting if you ask me.”

“So are school projects to you,” Grant said, “I didn’t choose it.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Ifor said.

“My balls are part of the grade,” Risley said.

“Your idea,” Cody snapped as another chime came from downstairs. “Bedtime!”

Risley began to cross the bedroom, his hard erection swayed.

“Considered a better light switch?” Grant asked.

“Dad refuses,” Cody said.

“Stop,” Ifor said to Risley.

“What?” Risley asked.

Ifor’s head was leveled, eyes toward Risley.

“Staring at his—” Cody asked.

“Got me thinking,” Ifor said, “Takes guts to let them go into the project, and I’d rather go do a hike than camp. We are Golden Claws after all, it’s why we’re getting a free ride in the first place.”

Risley turned around.

“Eureka!” Grant said as he jumped back up. He blushed as his yellow underwear sagged past his hips, and floated down; it exposed his wild brown pubic hair over a roughly circumcised penis. “We fly up there, back, as scheduled so our parents won’t know a thing. We bribe some local kid to fake us at camp, and we take a bush pilot into the woods where we can hike—pray if you like.”

“Can you pull those up?” Cody asked, “Bad enough when there was just one.”

Ifor laughed.

“Not funny,” Grant said.

“Is too,” Ifor replied as he regained his composure.

Grant sat on the edge of the bed, pulled the sheet to cover his lap.

“We’re going to that camp for a reason,” Cody said.

“And why’s that?” Ifor asked.

“Lord knows why,” Cody said, “I loathe to thwart—”

“Maybe he meant for us to spend time together,” Grant said, “We don’t need some camp to do that. Hiking is just as good.”

“No dicks?” Risley asked.

Ifor chuckled.

“Camp, this camp, doesn’t seem right for what will be our last summer as…as kids,” Grant said, “So unless they’re checking pictures for attendance, I’m going hiking.”

“Hack their database?” Risley asked.

“Sounds sketchy,” Cody said.

“I’m in,” Risley said.

“And me,” Ifor said.

“I’m not joining you on that!” Cody said.

“We’d like you to come,” Risley said.

“No,” Cody said, “My prayers have been answered—I’m going to camp!”

Grant sighed.

“Though…he could cover for us,” Grant said, “Help with mail, pointed questions, that sort with whoever takes our places.”

“Yes, I’m naked and it’s…I’m very aware of it,” Risley said as he came back to Cody, “I’m letting it slide because we’re good friends and I trust you, even with seeing my hardon. I’d like you to come with us, won’t be the same without you.”

“I simply … can’t,” Cody said, “Lord knows how much I’ve pestered my parents over the years, I can’t reward that by ditching. But…. Yes, I’ll cover.”

“We’ll tell you all about it,” Risley said.

“Sure you will,” Cody said.

Risley sat on the edge of the bed, next to Grant.

“I’ll get the light,” Ifor said.

A quick glance, a pair of bare buttocks before Ifor’s finger flicked the switch. Near darkness as their eyes adjusted to the bit of city glow coming through the window. Risley crawled to the far side of the bed, moved slightly to keep his side off the plaster wall; Grant laid next to the edge of the mattress.

“Are you all naked?” Cody asked.

“No comment,” Ifor replied.

Risley felt the quick bump, another penis.

“Oops,” Grant whispered, “Small bed.”

Risley turned, curled slightly on his right side, butt against the plaster, and pulled the duvet over them both.

“Are you two—” Cody asked.

“Naked in a bed together,” Grant said.

“Cut it out!” Ifor said, “He’s already wound up.”

“We’ll keep it down!” Grant said.

“What?” Risley whispered, aware Grant’s face was inches in front of his.

“Just so you don’t have to lie,” Grant whispered in reply.

Risley felt the hands curl around his erection, simply held on.

“Grabbing—” Cody asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Grant said.

“Please!” Ifor snapped.

“Sleep,” Risley whispered to Grant.

Hands off, Risley fell to sleep.


	2. Plans

**69 USC § 1496:** Any person possessing a device capable of recording or displaying genitalia outside of either a law enforcement or newsworthy or biblical appropriate depiction is guilty of a felony punishable by up to five years in prison and a required lifetime registration as a sexual offender.

Wednesday, June 17th

A pair of tits came to one of Risley’s dreams, modestly built, with a mole near the right nipple, danced around the campfire among the woods. Fire leapt out of the metal ring, caught the dry grass to spread fast. Risley’s penis in hand, aimed, and began to pee, drove the flames back. Hands of the tits began to clap fast as the stream poured out of the slit.

“Risley!” Grant whispered, and Risley woke. “Risley!”

Duvet was off, Grant back a short bit, as the spasms ran through his hard erection, spraying a regular fountain out of it.

“Sorry,” Risley said.

“Wet dream,” Grant whispered, “Happens but we’re switching sides—I’m not sleeping in it. Before Cody finds out.”

Grant moved, Risley got onto his hands and knees above the other side as his dick kept dribbling. Risley laid back down as he turned over next to the edge of the mattress, felt the warm and sticky seed drag on his butt.

“Ew…” Risley muttered.

“Yours,” Grant said, “Sleep.”

It took a few more minutes to get back to sleep. Time felt short as he was poked back awake in a lit bedroom. Risley felt the wild pubic hair pressed along with a penis against his left hip, as Grant was on his side, nestled against Risley. Grant’s arm was over Risley’s chest, next to Grant’s head resting on the shoulder, and pointed.

“There,” Grant whispered.

Risley caught the sight too, Cody’s red T–shirt and white underwear were underneath the desk. Cody’s sleeping bag long gone near the stairs, as he laid sleeping, face planted into the pillow, and a hard circumcised erection jutted out from beneath his stomach.

“He’s like one of us,” Grant said, “Got a camera for proof?”

Risley shook his head.

“Water?” Grant asked.

Again, Risley shook his head, glanced at Ifor on his back on the sofa, intact soft penis beneath the light brown pubic hair, before returning to Cody.

“You’re no fun,” Grant whispered.

“We’re Golden Claws,” Risley said, “I’m not repaying his kindness with…with that.”

Cody stirred, his arms pushed his torso upward, nipples showed as he quickly rolled enough to turn his head, his hard circumcised penis jutted out and down as his face turned crimson.

“Gotcha,” Grant whispered.

“Not again!” Cody muttered as he stood, his hands tried to clasp over his hard erection.

“Relax,” Ifor said, “It’s your bedroom, we’re all—”

“It’s inappropriate,” Cody said as he grabbed his red T–shirt, put it on.

“We’ve camped!” Ifor said.

“Tents are still inappropriate, can’t be helped there,” Cody said as he bent over to pick up his white underwear.

“Hold still,” Grant said, glancing at the bare buttocks aimed toward Ifor with the balls dangling.

“Why?” Cody asked.

“So you can moon him,” Grant said.

“Bit advanced for a first date,” Ifor said.

“I’ve tried duct taping pajamas on—hurts in the morning,” Cody said, “Don’t tell anybody.”

“Join us for our hike?” Ifor asked.

“No.” Cody pulled his underwear up, the outline there of the firmness beneath. “I’ll get you towels, but I’m first on the shower.”

Cody left the bedroom. Risley stood, leaned back against the desk, let his soft penis dangle against his balls between his legs, felt it wake up with the morning pressure building up.

“Don’t think he’s coming along with us,” Risley said, “It’d be nice, but he clearly doesn’t want to.”

“Still up for it?” Grant said, as he stood, “Even if you have to watch my dick?”

“I…” Risley studied Grant’s soft penis with a jagged circumcision wild pubic hair, figured an occasional glance was alright. “Yes.”

“I’m…” Ifor blushed as he stood, his fingers teased his foreskin, a bit of the glans peeked out of his stiffening erection, and his eyes darted. “Yes, I can tolerate it.”

“When’s the flight?” Grant asked.

“Sunday,” Ifor said, “Likely early.”

“Can I borrow your tablet?” Grant said, “I can’t afford another report.”

Risley unlocked it, handed it over.

“What are you thinking?” Ifor asked.

“Tight,” Grant said, tapping away, “But we’ve planned on shorter notice before.”

“For a weekend, not two months,” Risley said.

“Two months?” Grant said.

“Ten weeks,” Ifor said.

“Best idea ever Risley,” Grant said, “Supplies, we can manage. Trick will be the masquerade, and we have to pack smart.”

“Agreed,” Risley said.

Ifor nodded.

“If asked, we’re just packing for camp,” Risley said.

“May have to ship,” Grant said, “We—”

Cody came up the steps. Grant locked the tablet.

“Next,” Cody said as he tossed a towel at Ifor, “At least pretend to be wearing something.”

“We don’t have fucking time to waste,” Grant said as he followed.

“Hey!” Cody snapped.

“We overslept,” Risley said, feeling the morning pressure turn up, “My clothes?”

“In the bathroom,” Cody said.

Risley walked down the stairs, the urge grew fast.

“Be discreet!” Cody snapped.

Risley glanced both ways on the hallway, heard the movement in the kitchen, before he held his breath and crossed the hallway; he opened the door.

“Hey!” Ifor snapped, from beneath the shower head in the bathtub.

Grant was on the toilet to the other side of the curtain.

“Either you or him,” Risley said as he stepped into the other end of the bathtub, “Also—”

“I’m taking—” Ifor started as Risley turned his back toward Ifor and Grant.

“Let him,” Grant said.

Risley aimed his penis and yielded to the pressure. Yellow juice streamed out.

“In his—for that, you can stay,” Ifor said to Risley.

“Perhaps we’re too hard on him?” Risley asked, still peeing.

“Take a dump,” Grant suggested as they heard the plunk from the bowl beneath him.

“No,” Risley said.

A washcloth was slung over Risley’s shoulder.

“Wash up,” Ifor said, “Want those balls to be as pretty as the ones in the project.”

“You like them?” Risley asked.

“Never said that,” Ifor said as he stepped out.

Risley backed up, lathered up.

“Cody’s right in one way,” Ifor said as Grant stepped into the bathtub, “This is fucking illegal.”

“Why, it’s not like we signed up for it,” Grant said.

“I meant…never mind,” Ifor said, “Leave you two.”

Ifor left the bathroom.

“Courage,” Grant said, “That’s one of the points we swore to uphold with the Golden Claw.”

“Honesty with yourself,” Risley said.

“We show both,” Grant said.

Risley rinsed, stepped out. Dried and dressed as yesterday, Risley left the bathroom, met Ifor and Cody already in the kitchen. Risley grabbed a sausage sandwich, ate, glanced at Cody dressed in a nice button up shirt with a tie. Ifor had his olive drab shirt on, only two buttons midway were closed.

“Don’t forget we’ve got to review the other projects,” Cody said, “Think about the eyeful you’ve given everybody else.”

It came back to Risley, the full scan, the complete model of his genitals that had been inserted into their final project, the same one that his classmates were supposed to watch and review before class.

“Just say you were drunk,” Grant said as he entered, with his black and yellow sweater on.

“That won’t help,” Cody said.

“There’s a ton of clip art out there,” Ifor said, “Just refuse to say where we got it from.”

Ifor took a chug from the bottle of orange juice, handed it over to Risley.

“Cups!” Cody said.

Risley took a chug, handed it to Grant.

“No dishes,” Ifor said.

“It’s faster,” Risley said.

Risley joined Ifor in putting on their tennis shoes before they left through the back door. Grant and Cody ran to catch up; Cody’s polished black shoes with hard soles made a distinctive footstep. They walked fast, crossed the light, entered the park.

“Why hello,” said Ainsley, a blond haired girl who came at them from the side, walked along, “I see you turned in your…project.”

“Yes,” Cody said.

“Whose?” Ainsley asked before he head turned toward Ifor, “You?”

“Clip art,” Grant said.

“Not mine,” Ifor said.

“Hair didn’t match, whose?” She glanced between them, before her eyes landed on Risley.

Risley stopped, froze. Ifor laughed, Grant snickered.

“Suppose beggars can’t be choosers,” Ainsley said as she stepped closer to Risley. Her hand reached, held Risley’s crotch, felt inward as he stiffened. “Bold.”

“A–hem!” Cody snapped.

“Not here,” Risley said.

“Bible study?” Ainsley whispered, “Curious.”

RING!

“We’ve got to run,” Ifor said.

Risley stepped back, joined in the run.

“Should’ve pulled it out,” Grant said.

“You!” Risley snapped.

They made it to Billy Graham High School and entered. First floor, they slipped in with the others into their history classroom. Ahead, a red haired girl had her tablet on her desk, flashed it to him, the project, the Adam had a stiff erection, Risley’s stiff erection. She waved. Risley smiled, sunk into his seat.

…

Glances, waves, and smiles, along with tablets set to his erection, followed Risley for the entire day, until the end of the seventh period.

“With that, remember that this class will not meet tomorrow nor Thursday,” said Mr. Williams, a seasoned older man, “So, I wish you all a happy summer and life. Mr. Gillespie, stay as I need a word with you.”

Catcalls as the others left the room.

“I’ll be outside,” Ifor said before he left.

“Please stand,” Mr. Williams said.

Risley stood.

“Can you cite all the clip art you used?” Mr. Williams asked.

“Yes,” Risley said, “It’s in the report.”

“Do I need you to drop your britches?” Mr. Williams asked.

“No,” Risley said, understood the implication.

“That’s not the first time that stunt’s been tried,” Mr. Williams said, “Though it’s been a while, perhaps a little chaos will do the administration a bit of good. Still, you flashed the entire school, didn’t you?”

“That was not my intention,” Risley said.

“It is now newsworthy, so it will no longer be censored,” Mr. Williams said, “If you’re lucky, the news may decide to blur it.”

“Oh,” Risley muttered.

“It’s instigated at least three fights today,” Mr. Williams said, “It’s made some feel…inadequate. Do you now understand the impact of your decision?”

“I’m beginning to,” Risley said.

“Well, there is no way to undo it now,” Mr. Williams said, “Everybody now knows you’re healthy, mature, and unaltered down there. You won’t even know how far its spread for years to come.”

“Yes,” Risley said.

“With that bump into adulthood,” Mr. Williams said, “Live long and prosper.”

Risley shook the extended hand.

“Thank you,” Risley said.

“Now beat it,” Mr. Williams said, “I’m headed to the office.”

Risley left the classroom into the very hot air. Ifor was still waiting, tablet in the holster hanging from his shoulder, breeding sweat stains beneath the pits on the open olive drab shirt secured with two buttons to leave the naval and nipples showing on the physique of a modestly fit wrestler.

“Scolded you?” Ifor said as they walked along.

“He’s not dull,” Risley said as he quickly sniffed his own armpits on his sleeveless white shirt, realized he had forgotten the deodorant as his sweat lubricated the skin below.

“Every girl saw it,” Ifor said, “Feel better?”

“Dunno,” Risley replied, “How did we do?”

“With Cody? We aced it,” Ifor said as they entered the path beneath the trees across the adjacent park, “Your penis didn’t help, but didn’t hurt, he simply marked the diagram as present, moved on.”

“Well, it’s popular,” Risley said.

“Yep,” Ifor said.

“Caught a couple people spying at the urinals,” Risley said.

“Verifying, likely,” Ifor said, “Heard about the breakup over it?”

“What?” Risley asked.

“In drama,” Ifor said, “The girl was unwilling to wait to see—used your dick as justification.”

“Wow,” Risley replied as they came to the light at the corner of the park, “My dick did that?”

“Yeah,” Ifor said, “What a way to end your high school career.”

“Blame Grant,” Risley said as they crossed the street.

“It was still yours,” Ifor said.

“Everybody’s undressing me,” Risley said.

They turned onto Strawberry Street, came to the broad two floor blue house, a large outcropping in the street side roof.

“Well, you’ve made a name for yourself,” Ifor said.

“J?” Risley asked.

“Sure,” Ifor said, “In a bit.”

Risley walked up along the driveway, turned right before he reached the detached garage, and approached the back door.

“I saw the most disgusting thing today,” said the brown haired girl and his sister, Marcia, leaning out of the window above.

“Shut up!” Risley snapped before he entered the house, even warmer than it was outside.

Risly walked through the disorganized kitchen, into the hall with the stairs, when he heard it.

“—a prank at Billy Graham High School made a mockery of a final project, right after these messages.”

Risley crept his head around the corner, saw the edge of the wheelchair to his old man, and retreated. He pulled his shoes off, carried them as he went slow up the stairs.

“Hello, I’m your favorite evangelist, Aubrey Wurtz, and I’m here to support the reelection of President Wayne Dunswell. He’s a real family man, encouraging you to—”

Risley took the sharp right at the top of the stairs, took the first door on the left, into his bedroom. Dark purple painted walls, tinfoil over the windows, and a hint of locker room smell, Risley closed the door. He pulled his shirt off before he secured the eight latches that bolted his door closed. Risley dropped his jeans and purple underwear to join the others scattered about the carpeted floor, before he grabbed his tablet.

Connecting to screen.

His bedroom wall, next to the window, came to life as the six foot by over three foot screen on it lit up, to be met by a message in red.

Violation: Dress Code.

A thirty second timer counted down.

“J,” Risley said, “WoodyElf.”

A familiar sight, a close up of his own dangling soft penis, the round lumps of the balls behind it, and the dark brown pubic hair was centered along with a single word, “Verify.”

“Hang on,” Risley said as he punched in his code, “Takes a moment.”

Risley’s right fingers teased the edge of his foreskin, the pink glans and the slit within. He felt the surge of warmth, the swelling, as his penis slowly stiffened, halfway.

“Satisfied?” Risley asked, held it up.

Instead, a tight closeup of his slit showed on the screen.

Authenticating….

A side profile of his hard erection came to the upper left corner, _WoodyElf_ written across it. A message board showed, while a series of profile pictures were shown on the right. Risley tapped on _SprinterWV_ and saw that pair of breasts, the ones that had invaded his dreams, ones that showed their round curvature on a torso in front of a white wooden wall.

“Finally,” Risley said, studying the mole near the right nipple, “At least they don’t require more to login!”

“You know the threats against this forum,” SprinterWV said, “Measures to ensure you’re feeling private!”

“It’s the only forum I’m aware of that I have to…” Risley said, “Never mind, my summer got ruined, was signed up for some camp, they never asked me first.”

“Camp, sounds fun,” SprinterWV said.

“Hardly,” Risley said, leaning back against his dresser, hand curled around his stiffening shaft.

A bit of yellow straw fluttered across the screen, caught onto the erect nipple. Risley chuckled.

“Did you ask for this?” SprinterWV asked.

“Scholarship and a surprise!” Risley said. His hand tugged on his balls, pulled the loose ball–sack as low as it could beneath his brown pubic hair as he kept talking. “Well, we found a way out, we’re going for a hike instead.”

“Really?” SprinterWV asked, “Warm there?”

“Dad likes it warm,” Risley said, “He…how’d you know?”

“Check your video,” SprinterWV said, “Glad you like my tits.”

Risley tapped on the icon, confirmed his hunch as he aw what he was sending, a tight close up of his genitals, from his pubic hair, to his loose balls, and the hard erection jutting toward the screen.

“I…doesn’t matter,” Risley said.

“Why?” SprinterWV asked.

“They’re all over,” Risley said, “Grant—”

“No NAMES!” SprinterWV said.

“He used my tablet to put my—things, onto a model of Adam,” Risley said, “Part of a project that required review—and guess it was pretty popular.”

“Be careful of the pengus, they’ll figure out you jail broke something to get it,” SprinterWV said, “And your pretty balls won’t save you if they decide to come after you.”

“Do you like them?” Risley asked, “My balls?”

“I…yes,” SprinterWV said, “Believe I do—”

Knock! Knock!

“I don’t have a door,” SprinterWV said.

“Risley!” came the shout.

“Keep you posted, Later!” Risley said as he tapped the emergency logout button.

“Excuse me?” came the call.

“Gimme a moment!” Risley shouted as he made for the door.

A jiggle to the doorknob, however, Risley slid the cover to the peephole. Grant and Ifor were there.

“That way?” Grant asked.

“He’s being careful,” Ifor said.

Risley started to slide the latches.

“You and your stupid—nevermind,” came Grant’s voice as Risley finshed unbolting the latches.

“Like I said,” Risley said as he cracked the door.

Grant pushed in.

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that,” Grant said, glancing at Risley, “So, you’re not being paranoid.”

“Told you,” Ifor said, following.

“What do I have the pleasure?” Risley asked.

“You’re happy,” Grant said as Ifor secured the latches, “Planning!”

“Oh, yeah,” Risley remarked.

“I’m…” Ifor said as he dropped his blue jeans, underwear.

“Definitely not Cody’s,” Grant said, moving over to the bed. Grant pulled his yellow and black sweater, dropped his pants, sat on the bed in his yellow underwear. “Dad heard about our project, he was not happy.”

“Really?” Risley said, “Anything wrong with it?”

“One day left and guess what, he pulled me out over it!” Grant said, “So, I’m done with school.”

“That’s it?” Ifor asked.

“So, we can tolerate being naked around each other, can’t we?” Grant said, “I need your tablet, given it’s jail broken.”

“Use mine.” Ifor handed his over to Grant, before he sat on a bean bag chair. “Mine, like his, simply won’t rat us out.”

“Of course,” Grant said as he logged into it, “Though I’m not this afraid of the daylight.”

“You know how my old man likes it hot,” Risley said as he leaned back, his butt hugged the edge of his desk, “I couldn’t stand it—somebody might see in and file a complaint.”

Risley grabbed his tablet, disabled the screen connection and the sound, before he aimed it at his still hard erection.

“At least you’re not as tightly wound up about it as Cody was,” Grant said.

“Everybody saw it today!” Risley said, “No point hiding—”

“It’s still yours,” Ifor said as he leaned back, both balls wedged between the legs, “Hey, watch this!”

Risley glanced. Ifor lifted his legs up, balanced with his hands on the bean bag chair, his bare buttocks with his dark anus aimed at Risley and Grant, his ball sack on top between the legs.

Pfffpt!

“Come on,” Grant said, “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Alaska,” Risley said, focusing back to Grant for a moment, before coming to the forum.

Risley tapped on SprinterWV’s profile, saw those tits with the mole near the right nipple, a reminder of what he could get into trouble for at that camp. His hard erection remained stiff.

“Simple enough,” Grant said, “But it’ll take money.”

“Sure,” Risley said.

“If it’s that or camp,” Ifor said as he sat up. Ifor’s head turned toward Risley, blushed as the penis stiffened. “I’d rather have the freedom.”

“You two like to show your boners?” Grant asked.

“No,” Risley said, “Just happens.”

“Ris…” Ifor whispered.

Risley glanced at Ifor shaking his head, pointed to the tablet.

“Nothing,” Risley said.

“What?” Grant asked as he rushed up and over.

Risley’s hard dick tapped the tablet, it went dark.

“Protecting your innocence,” Ifor said as Grant’s yellow underwear slipped.

“We’re innocent?” Grant asked as he ignored the slippage, to stand there with his soft circumcised penis hanging beneath his wild pubic hair.

“Yes, you are,” Risley stated.

“I’ve got Blake,” Grant said, “You know, my older brother—he’s made sure I know a thing or two.”

Grant sat back on the bed. Risley reactivated his tablet, tapped a message.

SprinterWV, going hiking, interested in joining us? I’d love to explore Alaska with you. — WoodyElf.

Risley tapped, brought the map up, and sat on the bed next to Grant.

“Where?” Risley asked.

“Denali,” Grant said.

“Coast,” Ifor said, “Rivers—maybe even a bear while we go swimming. I mean, if it weren’t for all this bible on steroids nonsense, the camp would be alright.”

“Alaska’s plenty big,” Grant said, “We’ll get dropped off somewhere in between, make it a base, you know, a box with ten weeks of food I’d rather not carry. “

“Me neither,” Ifor said.

“There’s—” Risley zoomed in, noticed a trail–head, “Trail access.”

“You still have to get there,” Grant said, “No, best way is a plane, find a pilot willing to keep it a secret, because otherwise we’re lugging ten weeks of food with us.”

“Iconic views,” Risley stated.

“The police are paying for us to go!” Ifor said, “Don’t give them a trail for Dad to follow!”

“Plenty of places for views,” Grant said,

“RISLEY!” came the holler from outside the bedroom.

Risley got up, picked up a pair of purple underwear from the floor, put them on.

“Go out without them,” Grant suggested.

“Yeah right!” Risley snapped.

“RISLEY EDGAR!” came the second holler.

“JUST A MOMENT!” Risley shouted back as he grabbed a white sleeveless shirt.

Eight bolts slid as he unlatched them, fast.

“You can borrow—” Risley started.

“We know,” Grant said.

Risley walked out his door, pulled his shirt on as he went down the stairs.

“Naked in your bedroom again?” asked Alyce, his mother at the bottom of the steps, in a light blue dress blouse and darker blue slacks.

“Fucking hot,” Risley said.

“Your father’s medical exemption permits underwear, not less,” Alyce said.

“I’m _in_ underwear now!” Risley snapped as he stopped near the bottom, “Thought you were in China.”

“Got pushed back to next month,” Alyce said, “I heard something that apparently concerned you.”

“He flashed _everybody_ ,” said Marcia, just behind their mother..

“Tell me that it wasn’t you,” Alyce said to Risley.

“I…” Risley started, but he couldn’t stomach a lie.

“Disgusting,” Marcia said.

“That’s enough!” Alyce said.

Risley realized they both had likely seen it, his underwear was a simple formality, so they both knew exactly what was beneath the bulge in the purple cloth.

“Of all the stupid pranks,” Alyce said, “You had better pray it doesn’t affect your dreams to become a civil engineer, because something like that will come up when they do a background search.”

“I’m only fifteen—” Risley started.

“That doesn’t matter when it pops up,” Alyce said, “Well, you’ve got four years of college to think of an answer to their questions.”

“How’d he even take it?” Marcia asked.

“He knows the answer to that,” Alyce said.

“He’s not even cir—something,” Marcia said.

“Body’s a temple,” Alyce said, “Don’t cut on it and you were both baptized the moment you were born.”

“Excuse me,” Risley said as he pushed past.

“You can go back to your room with your friends,” Alyce said, “Underwear!”

“It’s on!” Risley snapped as he walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, “Think I’d just show my dick around?”

“Your project’s already done,” Marcia said, reminding him of that detail.

“Camp!” Risley said, “Got planning to do.”

“Good,” Alyce said, “Make the most of it.”

“Camp?” Marcia asked.

“All summer long to escape _you_ ,” Risley said, before he smelled fried chicken.

He turned around, headed straight for the red and white waxed paper bucket with _Manna_ written on it, on top of the crowded stove, with drumsticks, wings, and other bits crusted over in light brown.

“Thank your Dad for letting me know your friends were over,” Alyce said, “I was going to bring it up to you.”

Risley grabbed the bucket, with its meaty goodness invading his nostrils, and went back up the stairs. Risley, though, stopped near the top, pulled the back of his underwear down as he bent over, mooned Marcia below.

“Mom!” Marcia complained.

Risley dashed for his bedroom, let the underwear drop as he closed the door.

“We’re supposed to be wearing it,” Risley said as he handed the bucket over to Grant. Ifor was sitting next to Grant.

“Too hot for those,” Grant said.

“Dad—he needs the heat up,” Risley said, “It’s why I never have Cody over, he’d insist—no.”

“We’ve got a plan,” Ifor said, “Just need ten weeks of food.”

“And find us a pilot and decoys,” Grant said as he stood, “I need my tablet, at home, to do it.”

“See you tomorrow at Bible Study,” Ifor said.

“We’re still on?” Grant asked as he pulled his yellow underwear up.

“Of course,” Risley replied.

“Cool,” Grant said as he pulled on his yellow and black striped sweater, “First.”

Grant grabbed a chicken side, brought it to his teeth, and ate in.

Burp!

“Sorry to dine and run,” Grant said as he pulled on his black jeans, his shoes, “Later.”

Grant undid the latches, left. Risley went over, secured the eight latches back.

“You are paranoid,” Ifor said.

“Marcia—trouble with little sisters, always think they can barge right on in,” Risley said, “That sends the message for her to keep out!”

“Wise, actually, given your dislike of underwear in your bedroom,” Ifor said.

“It’s heat stroke if I did wear it,” Risley said, “Like they’d even get me a personal air conditioner.”

“And all the strikes that would give your family on their power bill,” Ifor said.

“Yes, even though it all comes from the river!” Risley said as he sat back down on the bed, next to Ifor, “At least…”

Risley grabbed his tablet, tapped as he logged back in. SprinterWV’s tits came back to the screen and his erection returned.

“Yeah, you’re hard,” Ifor said.

“You’re not alone?” SprinterWV asked.

“I’ve got If—I meant BaldBlue here too,” Risley said.

“Hi,” Ifor said.

“You’re serious about this hike, bringing me along?” SprinterWV asked.

“Sure,” Risley said, “Sunday, somewhere around Denali National Park in Alaska. We’d love to have you along.”

“I’d love to but sounds expensive,” SprinterWV said, “Besides, I’ve got like ten minutes to pack—”

“Pack?” Ifor asked.

“Camp—you’d think Dad would tell me about it before I had to leave!” SprinterWV said, “Theater camp—”

“I’m jealous,” Ifor said.

“Love to chat, but I need to tell Oyster about this too,” SprinterWV said, “He’s in a rotten situation, couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“Later,” Risley said.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” SprinterWV said, “Take pictures!”

SprinterWV has left the conversation.

“Better this way,” Ifor said.

“How?” Risley asked.

“Or, explain to Grant why we’d have to plan for four!” Ifor said.

“Oh,” Risley said.

“Still, three’s good company,” Ifor said.

Risley glanced at Ifor, eating a thigh, above the soft foreskin wrapped penis tucked by the pubic hair.

“Going home now?” Risley asked.

“Sure,” Ifor said, “And get peppered with tales of how I’ll love the police academy, how much I should be honored to serve—only to call in janitorial on…on things that shouldn’t even be crimes!”

“You know where the sleeping bag is,” Risley said.

“When the time comes, it’s not even curfew,” Ifor said as he stood.

Ifor’s tablet chimed.

“Maybe we should sponsor Grant onto J,” Risley said.

“Would he share with Blake?” Ifor asked as he checked his tablet, “It’s DickSnot and Oyster, this’ll take a while.”

Ifor walked over to the bean bag chair, while Risley scrolled through the list with nipples and dicks. Risley tapped on one he recognized.

“Don’t need to see your handle to know who you are,” said Peace, her breasts came to the screen, “All over—”

“I know!” Risley said.

“Also heard you’re off to some camp?” Peace asked.

“Landed in our laps, unasked for,” Risley said, “Look, we leave this weekend, so maybe a get together, bible study, say tomorrow, to celebrate the end of school?”

“Alright,” Peace said, “Lets not worry about curfew.”

“Some might not appreciate—” Ifor started.

“BaldBlue’s here too,” Risley said.

“We know who’s who for that,” Peace said.

“Alright, bible study at the church tomorrow—with pizza,” Risley said, “Then—um…normal stuff.”

Risley pulled up a side note, messaged MathWhiz.

“How many days?” Peace asked.

“We can’t go that long,” Ifor said, “Gotta pack before Sunday, so just the night.”

“Excited?” Peace asked.

“It’s Bible Camp on steroids!” Risley complained, “Real Bible Study—not ours.”

“You’d think his Dad would’ve asked for a better camp,” Peace said.

“Bit too late now that everything’s already paid for,” Risley said, “Though we’ve got an idea to make the best of it.”

“Oh, this will be fun,” Peace said, “We both know how your plans tend to go.”

“You’re not giving us credit,” Risley said.

“Well, your final project definitely gave you credit,” Peace said, “Your plan?”

“Tomorrow, at church,” Risley said, “I’ll post a note, spread the word.”

“I’ll be there,” Peace said, “Must go.”

Peace vanished.

“Great!” Ifor said, “With that—I need to go home and wash my underwear.”

“You’re welcome,” Risley said.

Ifor pulled his up, dressed.

“See you at school,” Ifor said.

“Yeah,” Risley said as Ifor unbolted the door.

Risley secured the latches after Ifor left, returned to the bed, where Oyster’s icon flashed. Risley pressed it.


	3. Bible Study

“After receiving a tip, police busted a ring of teenagers displaying their underwear to each other. Janitors were brought in to clean up the mess. This crime fighting alert brought to you by Mary’s Bible Repair, to fix that occasional oops in your life.”

Thursday, June 18th

It was warm and the start of an evening as Risley carried the purple rucksack over his shoulder. He went up the steps to the _Church of the Redemption_.

“You like that shirt,” Ifor said, with his own green rucksack.

“Same about yours,” Risley said.

Risley had a white sleeveless shirt, while Ifor was in his olive drab green button short sleeve shirt. Risley slid the key into the lock, turned the tumbler, and they entered. Down the steps, a turn, they entered the long room of the basement with a concrete floor.

“Did you tell Grant about the other half?” Ifor asked.

“He left before we made plans,” Risley said.

They crossed the room, entered the kitchen, and dropped their rucksacks. Ifor pulled out his tablet, as Cody entered the room.

“Rats,” Ifor said, “All pizzerias… forget about anything.”

“Booked?” Cody asked.

“Nobody can guarantee anything until after ten,” Ifor said, “Guess everybody had the same idea.”

“That’s past curfew,” Cody said, “I’ll post word—see if we can’t at least have a few things to munch on.”

“Sounds good,” Ifor said.

As Cody focused on his own tablet, Risley watched Ifor hit submit on an order for three pizzas. Risley snickered.

“What?” Cody asked.

“Nothing,” Risley said, “You wouldn’t get it.”

Risley grabbed his tablet and left the kitchen as the faces began to show up. Blonde hair, Ainsley came down the steps, her own rucksack in hand.

“Well, give you one thing,” Ainsley said, “You got balls—well, to err is to be human, to forgive is divine, right?”

“Yep,” Risley said, “Let you find out, later.”

“Maybe,” Ainsley remarked, “Too bad you didn’t talk Ifor—curiosity, you see.”

Ainsley headed for the kitchen where Ifor still was.

“Unlike her,” said Peace, two steps behind, “I want to find out how good that camera is.”

“Me too,” Risley said, felt his stiffness start to grow beneath the denim, as he wanted to her to remove her multicolored T–shirt right then and there.

“Can you imagine spending a night with them?” Grant asked as he walked by, only a tablet in his hands, but otherwise in his yellow and black sweater.

“Yep,” Risley said as they walked toward the center.

“Chairs,” Cody suggested.

Risley and Grant helped pull folding chairs off the rack; they arranged them into a circle for the twenty teenagers that filled the basement. Most of them sat, while Ifor brought out a thick book.

“Did anybody get a chance to read—” Ifor held up _On the Origin of Species_.

“Utter bullshit,” Cody said.

“It makes a certain sort of sense,” said one boy, Jai, with blond hair, parted from the middle, “Mind you, digging through the ruins of the library was challenging. However, they had a lot of evidence.”

“Most of which has been rebuked,” said a girl with her brown hair in pony tails.

“Thank you Barbette,” Cody said, “Evolution has been thoroughly discredited. This planet was created, by God, for us.”

“You’re trying to make us believe that—” a black haired boy with black eyes snapped his fingers “—poof! Sorry, bit of a tall tale.”

“Max—” Cody started.

“Fossils and dating the rocks,” said a boy with light brown hair, a stern disposition, and a gray T–shirt above ragged blue jeans, “It begs a certain disbelief to believe in creation, as stated. Now, if you separate—” he held up Charles Darwin’s book “—he starts to explain the what, the when, and the how—” he held up the Bible “—and this explains who did it and why.”

“No Locke,” Cody said, “The Earth is six thousand years old—that’s been proven. Just read that book and count—six thousand and some change.”

“But the Earth is billions of years old,” Grant said, “Some zircon’s been shown to be over four billion—”

“Is this why you flunked school?” Cody said, “They wouldn’t teach us anything at school if it weren’t true. And the Flintstones is an illustrated documentary. Living with dinosaurs—too bad they missed getting on Noah’s ark.”

“And just where are dinosaurs stated in the Bible?” Grant asked.

“I thought our school project—” Cody said.

“Even a chimpanzee knows when it’s in their best interest to regurgitate what the teacher’s saying,” Grant said, “Doesn’t mean that I believe it. And with the school teaching straight out of the Bible, it isn’t right.”

“But this Bible’s the truth,” Cody said, “It’s definitive—it’s been witnessed many times, so it’s fact.”

“But Cain, son of Adam of Eve, after having slayed his brother,” Grant said, “He went to Nod, east of Eden. Where did his wife come from? Clearly, there were people around not created by God. And this was after God showed a preference of the hunter over the farmer, after God sowed the seeds that led to Cain murdering Abel.” 1

“You have to have some faith,” Barbette said.

Cody nodded, his hand reached into the bag of potato chips, ate one.

“This, after all, is the word of God,” said a boy with curly red hair.

“But Erik—that requires you to believe—” Grant said.

“So does evolution,” Erik replied.

“Should we mention Noah?” Risley said, “At six hundred years, he’s only got three sons and no grandchildren? Of this, you have four related couples, on a boat for forty days while God kills every other living thing. And then repopulate humanity? Can you say incest? It smacks on unbelievability. I mean, if you figure Noah got a late start, the sons were already married, so his wife was likely in menopause. Did Noah screw the wives of his sons?”

“This Bible’s been well researched for millennium,” Cody said, “Sure, there’s been a bit of translation issues, but it’s survived intact.”

“Anything before the flood had to survive on the boat,” Grant said, “Doubt he brought more than one copy, given the no vacancy sign. And, he was—did you say six hundred? Think he should’ve brought more than a couple of scraps of parchment.”

“It simply comes down to faith,” Peace, with her brown hair, said, “Either you have it, at which point the Bible should be sufficient, or you don’t.”

“You better sort that out for camp,” Cody said to Grant.

Risley understood the threat.

Locke stood with the two books in his hands. “So, we have one, started as declaring itself to be truthful, and requiring your faith in that to remain true, or—this other book, starting out as a hypothesis, and letting others find the facts to prove it.”

“I guess that is the loaded question,” Ifor said, “Which one you believe. If you believe in Evolution, then all the fossils, all the rock dating, and the belief that things still act as they always have, then it’s good for you. If you believe in the Bible, then you can dismiss all of Evolution as an illusion of God. Some will try to bridge both by separating the points of the question of our origins.”

“Can’t believe you’re even entertaining this—in a church, of all places!” Cody said.

“We hold it here because Pastor Tyrall believes it does us good to debate,” Risley said, only carrying on with the thought of the later part, “And, I prefer a lively debate to some dull droning sermon.”

“And playing Devil’s Advocate is a good way to explore the issue,” Ifor said, “However, I’m more in the later group, evolution—like Grant, I can parrot anything for a grade. Doesn’t mean it’ll stick.”

They all heard Cody’s alarm clock ring out.

“You always bring that thing,” Locke complained.

“Don’t want to run afoul of curfew,” Cody said, “Grant can tell you—”

“Until next time,” Ifor said, “Unfortunately, with my all–summer camp, it’ll be a while until me or Risley can arrange one.”

They all stood up. Grant came over to Ifor and Risley.

“Catch up tomorrow—bring your packs,” Grant said, “Blake’s a bit thick, but he’s agreed to drive me to pick up some supplies before he goes to the fire station. Later.”

Grant left.

“I can walk—” Cody started.

“Maybe later,” Ifor said, “I might miss curfew because I accidentally ordered the pizza.”

“Oh, I can stay—” Cody started.

“No, better hurry,” Ifor said, “Think I’ve seen your name up on the charts. It’s not too far for me, so I can manage.”

“Yeah, see ya later,” Cody said.

Cody went up the stairs, left. Risley glanced around, only six left, himself, Ifor, Locke, Peace, Ainsley, and red–haired Janet.

“Is it true?” Locke asked, “Were those your real balls?”

“Yes,” Risley said.

“Can we—mind?” Janet asked.

“Your balls,” Ifor said.

Risley figured it best, pulled his white shirt off first, before he dropped his black jeans. Ifor tossed them over to the wall, beneath the stack of kid desks and chairs.

“So that rumor is true,” Ainsley said, her eyes toward Risley standing there in his purple underwear.

“Should see his bedroom—all purple,” Ifor said.

“Now…” Risley hesitated for a moment, this wasn’t a bedroom, nor was it the first time with underwear during a sleep over after Bible Study. However, it was the first time he was about to go further. Slowly, his thumbs hooked onto the elastic, his pubic hair began to show as the cloth dropped down in front of the five pairs of curious eyes.

Pfffpt!

“Make sure your tablets are hidden,” Ifor said.

Butts moved, the tablets stacked beneath Ifor’s On the Origin of Species .

“Cute,” Janet said as Risley’s soft penis flopped out of the underwear.

“Yes,” Risley said, letting the cloth finish the drop to his ankles, “These are mine.”

“They’re—” Ainsley said.

“Nice words only,” Ifor said.

An audience and Risley’s penis converted the attention into action, it stiffened fast, until his hard erection jutted outward.

“That explains a lot,” said Janet.

“It’s got a mind of its own,” Risley stated.

“Lets get the bags,” Ifor suggested.

They all carried the folding chairs back to the rack, brought out their rucksacks, and pulled out sleeping bags. Six sleeping bags fell to the ground, arranged in a circle around an imaginary fireplace. Risley bent over as he huffed on an inflatable mattress.

“I like it,” Peace said.

Risley felt the hands feel his bare buttocks, touch the base of his scrotum, and he jumped back up. He turned to see Peace there, with her tie–died T–shirt, grinning as she touched the tip of his hard erection.

“Careful,” Ifor said, “One thing to model the attire of Adam and Eve, another to…go further.”

“Just checking its authenticity,” Peace said as her hand held onto Risley’s loose balls, felt into them, “Authentic.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Janet said, “Makes sense now.”

Peace backed up, stood in the middle of the bags as Risley sat down, cross–legged.

“Guess it’s time to get comfortable,” Peach said as she grabbed her shirt.

“Um….” Lock muttered as the breast filled red bra bounced a bit.

“Further?” Risley asked, some snickers.

“We—” Locke started.

“Just be comfortable,” Ifor said, “If that’s underwear, it’s underwear. If it’s more or less, it’s more or less.”

“What color are yours?” Janet asked Locke.

Locke blushed. “Nobody said—”

“Go with the flow,” Ifor suggested.

“Yep,” Risley said, he focused on the front of Peace’s jeans as her fingers slid underneath. Risley traced the camel toe in the red panties while the denim fell down to her ankles. His hard dick twitched. “Always…”

“Behave, and you may get more,” Peace said.

Peace sat on Risley’s sleeping bag, next to him on his right. Her left hand reached behind, he felt it in the middle of his back.

“I showed you mine,” Risley said.

Locke trembled as he stood up in the middle between them.

“Do you always start these off with a strip tease?” Locke asked.

“I keep forgetting this is your first,” Risley said, “Strip if you want, or keep the underwear on.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Janet said.

Locke blushed.

“Remove your shirt, slowly,” Janet suggested.

“It’s simply more fun this way,” Ainsley said.

Locke lifted the hem of his gray T–shirt, revealed his naval and a mole halfway further up in line with his ribs. Hairy armpits showed themselves as he pulled the shirt over his head, forward and across the back of his neck. Locke dropped the shirt before his knuckles came together over his heart.

“Better?” Locke asked.

“First time’s—we’ve all had them,” Ifor said, “Right Risley?”

“Guess so,” Risley said.

“Will your balls make the school’s yearbook?” Peace said, “I want a copy.”

Laughter.

“I like the green Locke,” Peace said.

Eyes turned back to Locke, with a wide white elastic band over green to the top of the blue jeans.

“Normally I don’t show—” Locke started as his face blushed further, “Mom insisted—”

“Need help?” Peace asked.

“No,” Locke stated.

Locke unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the pants at the waist, and pulled down his zipper. Bands of white, the seams of the front pouch framed the long bulge. Locke pulled the jeans down until they were at his knees. His briefs where there, with the bulge.

“Had boxers before my Mom—” Lock started.

“You’re cute and handsome with those,” Peace said, “Thank her for it.”

“Excited?” Janet asked.

All eyes focused on the green fabric, with a bit of a pole from an erection begging to escape.

“I’m…” Locke trailed off.

A moment later, Lock pushed the pants all the way down, stepped out of them.

“Relax, stand there, and act normal,” Peace said.

“I’m naked!” Locke retorted.

“You’ve got underwear on,” Ifor said.

“I’m naked,” Risley stated.

Locke stood there, blushed, as everybody else studied him standing there. His right ball was wrapped to the side, the pole shifted as the flesh beneath stiffened. Locke’s hand shifted, covered the pole.

“Let it show,” Janet suggested.

Locke rushed as he sat back down, on the bag between Peace and Ainsley. Locke grabbed at the cloth, while Peace giggled.

“Sorry,” Peace said, “Relax.”

“Whole point was to—” Locke pushed down on the wide wide elastic, his penis finished stiffening before them as his balls hung over the edge. “—to show this off?”

All eyes turned to Locke, with a hard erection jutting up out of the crotch.

“That’s on you,” Ifor said.

Nobody stopped studying Locke’s flesh. A rock hard erection with the band of circumcision, a shoulder to his pink glans, and the ridge running underneath the shaft. His balls hung loose, the left sagged lower than his right.

“As much as I like these,” Janet said, “I thought the point was to keep these a mystery, because a bible study in underwear is one thing—pulling it off…”

Peace displaced Locke’s hand from his elastic, pulled it up, and saddled his erection back into the cloth.

“Clean, a surprise,” Peace said as her hands moved to his shoulders. “Underwear’s more than enough.”

“Sorry,” Locke said.

“Another nominee for Adam,” Ifor said.

Locke blushed.

“You should put yours back on,” Peace said to Risley, “That—not here.”

“She likes your goods,” Ifor said.

“Let’s see what you have to offer,” Locke said, “Pretend you’re logging in—”

“Shh!” Risley quipped while Ifor stood up.

“Just what do you have to—?” Peace started to ask.

“Not here,” Risley said.

Ifor, though, was already standing. His chest showed through his unbuttoned olive drab shirt, his blue jeans already down to his ankles to show his similarly colored briefs.

“Given that even underwear’s forbidden,” Ifor said, “Being down right naked—”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ainsley said, “Though, if you can’t, it’s one Peace for boys, two for girls.”

“Peace…” Risley snickered.

“Shut up!” Peace complained.

“My turn, watch me!” Ifor said.

Eyes turned toward Ifor who turned around, he patted both rumps beneath the green cloth of his briefs. He pushed on the waist band, lowered his briefs, exposed the straight crack that separated his buttocks until it got to his scrotum between his legs, with the foreskin of his penis peeking beneath the sack.

“One piece and you chose the shirt,” Locke said.

“Yeah,” Ifor said, as he turned around, “Get lost in the woods and a shirt’s infinitely better than underwear. Please, take a gander, let me know what you think.”

Ifor bunched his shirt together above his belly button, which showed his tight but fluffy light brown pubic hair. Taut, his sharp tip of foreskin was hanging just below the scrotum. Ainsley smiled.

“What’s that?” Locke asked as he pointed.

“A penis,” Risley said.

“I mean—you and—” Locke lowered his briefs as he stood back up, stepped next to Ifor, “Can’t you see the difference?”

“He’s not as excited,” Janet said.

Even Risley spotted that, Ifor was soft, while Locke was hard.

“Risley!” Locke said.

Risley stood, his hard erection jutted out, as Locke came to stand next him.

“Don’t you see it?” Locke asked.

“Length,” Ainsley remarked.

Risley glanced down, he had an inch on Locke.

“They look fine,” Peace said, “Maybe encourage Ifor—”

“You can still … pee, right?” Ainsley said, before she exclaimed, “Not right now!”

Fits of giggles came from Janet. Risley understood Ainsley’s concern with his hard dick aimed toward her.

“Not that,” Locke said, “It’s…different, I see it.”

Another moment, and Risley understood.

“This?” Risley asked as he pulled on his foreskin.

“Yes, that,” Locke said, “I don’t have it.”

“You don’t?” Janet asked, “Why?”

“Dunno,” Locke said, “It’s always been like this, as far as I remember.”

“It’s alright,” Ainsley said, “You are what you are, accept it. We do.”

“Definitely,” Peace said.

Janet clapped as Locke bowed. Risley sat back down, next to Peace. Locke returned to sitting, left the underwear in the middle.

“Now you’re the one making me feel uncomfortable,” Janet said as she pulled off her shirts, jeans, as she kept sitting there, “Pretend you’re investigating…us, so you arrive at the office.”

Ifor’s balls swayed as he walked for the stairs, came back.

“Hello, I’ve just started the day,” Ifor said.

“Remove your coat,” Janet hinted.

Ifor removed his shirt, let it drop to the ground.

“Time for me to get back to my investigation into a certain Bible study group,” Ifor said.

Ifor turned, faced them, hands to his hips as the legs spread apart. His soft penis dangled free, square between the legs, both balls also free. Ifor stopped, his face turned crimson as he blushed.

“Always a first time,” Locke said.

“That moment you realize how exposed you are,” Risley said, “Felt that yesterday after—it’s easier the next time.”

“Raise the flag,” Ainsley said, “After all, it’s government.”

“Raise—how?” Ifor started.

“We’re watching your weiner,” Risley stated.

“Um…oh,” Ifor said as his softness appreciated the suggestion and began to stretch “—you mean—” It ratcheted upward, he touched it as it finished. “It has risen.” Ifor blushed again, his stiff erection wrapped in foreskin jutted toward them. “Please stand—Locke and Risley.”

Risley stood, same with Locke. All three hard erections stood forward as the girls grinned.

“I pledge allegiance,” Ifor started, “To the flag of the United States of America, and to the pubic, for which stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with worship and Jesus for all.”2

Risley and Locke sat as Ifor turned to give a side profile. Ifor’s stiffness jutted out with a slight droop to the foreskin that wrapped his glans; his balls hung close with a pinker skin to the front and base of the pouch.

“Um…just a moment,” Ifor said.

Ifor turned, his bare butt showed to them as he walked to the wall, where he grabbed a small desk and small chair. He pulled them back over. Ifor moved the desk a bit to stage right and behind, before he turned the small chair toward the small group. Ifor sat down on the small kid chair, he brought his knees up to mid chest level, but spread them.

“Guess seeing these is now the point,” Ifor said, his hard shaft aimed forward above the purse that also held his round lumps forward, “Can you all see my balls?”

“Yep,” Ainsley said.

“This Bible Study is nefarious,” Ifor said, “Not only are the boys showing their boners off to the girls—” he paused as the light blue eyes roamed. “They haven’t touched a Bible in years, apart from leveling the furniture.”

“Actually,” Ainsley said, “Yesterday was the first time I’d ever seen what was there, and this the first time I’ve seen those in person.”

“You’re welcome,” Ifor said, a red blush returned to his cheeks.

“Complaining?” Ainsley asked Peace.

“And we know what happens when boy shows off his boner,” Ifor said, “Girls might see it.”

Ifor came off the chair, went onto his knees, onto Ainsley’s bag. He flexed his hips, thrust it toward her.

“I see it,” Janet said.

“Other boys might see it,” Ifor said, moving to in front of Risley.

Inches away from Risley, a sliver of the Ifor’s foreskin clung to the tip as Ifor shook it.

“No thanks,” Risley said.

Locke shook his head.

“Or, the boy might play with it,” Ifor said as he gripped his hard cock, “However, it stinks!”

Ifor moved back to Ainsley. She leaned in, sniffed, and nodded.

“Clean it,” Ainsley suggested.

“Still, we need to expose…” Ifor retracted his foreskin, showed off his pink glans, and his finger went along his slit.

“So you _do_ have that,” Ainsley said.

“We need to show and demonize this for what it is!” Ifor said as he twisted his hips, the hard erection rotated between them. “If it were up to me, I’d chop them all off!” Ifor’s hands made a chopping motion.

The girls laughed as Risley and Locke quickly used hands to guard theirs.

“Return them when the boy is married and ready to procreate!” Ifor said, “It ought to be a library, check it out, and check it back in.” Ifor twisted, the hard dick aimed at Risley. “Instead, I have to investigate and it really pisses me off!”

A split second to realize the potential of Ifor’s slit, and Risley moved sideways. Ifor laughed.

“What?” Janet asked.

“He’s talking about taking a leak,” Risley explained.

“Relax,” Ifor said, “I’m holding it in.”

Locke joined in the small fit of laughter.

“Do you need—?” Janet asked.

“When the answer becomes yes,” Ifor said, “For now, I need to investigate, send over a spy—teenagers, so a pizza delivery ought to—”

KNOCK! KNOCK!

They jumped, Risley began to search for his clothes.

“Hello?” came the loud voice.

“It’s the pizza!” Ifor said.

“I’ll get it,” Ainsley said, still dressed before she shouted. “Just a MOMENT!”

Ainsley grabbed Ifor’s jeans, took out his wallet, and went for the stairs. Risley followed a short distance behind.

“What’s happening?” the fellow asked.

“Debating Revelations can work up the appetite,” Ainsley said, “Here.”

“Thanks,” the guy said, “Need help?”

“I’ll manage,” Ainsley said, taking the box with three pies and some soda bottles showing, her foot closed the door.

Ifor was halfway up.

“Thanks for helping,” Ainsley said, handing the box to Risley.

Risley carried it down.

“So,” Janet said, “If some lady slipped on the crosswalk, you’d head out naked?”

“Wasn’t planning—if I had to,” Ifor said.

Risley set the large box down near by; Ifor spread the three pizza boxes across the six sleeping bags.

“He totally would,” Peach said, “I’d love to see it—”

“Until the Pengus snatched him away,” Risley said.

“What’s a pengu?” Janet asked.

“You don’t want to find out,” Ifor said, as he knelt on the concrete floor, and sat on his feet with his knees spread apart, his penis now soft, “Skip any thought of a prayer or blessing and lets eat.”

Ifor served himself a couple slices of the Hawaiian, while Risley took a slice of pepperoni. Ifor grabbed a cola bottle, gulped down a liter, fast.

“Revelations,” Locke said to Ainsley while grabbing a slice of sausage with peppers and mushrooms, “You’d make a good liar.”

“You’re naked in a church, need I say more?” Ainsley said, still standing, “You’ve had your fun, watch me.”

Risley joined the other four, watched as Ainsley, in a single move, removed her light green T–shirt and bra. With a near bounce, the breasts jiggled. A second move, her thumbs sliced beneath her pants, dropped them fast with her panties. Risley’s eyes forgot the food, fixed on the feature he did not recognize, a line of folds in her skin between her legs.

“So these sleepovers are always—?” Locke started to ask, breaking Risley’s trance as Ainsley sat.

“First time in skin,” Risley said, “Bullshit until bed.”

“Last time it was Frosty the snowman,” Ifor said, “It’s summer, so it was to be underwear—it’s fine now, I think.”

Peace snickered.

“First time for me in front of … girls,” Ifor said, “And to act while naked—using my boner as a prop? It’s….”

“Two thumbs up,” Ainsley said.

Risley glanced as a droplet fell from Ifor’s foreskin.

“Funny coincidence,” Ainsley said, “Delivered when you were about to—in your skit.”

Ifor grabbed two slices of pepperoni, placed them on top of partial piece of Hawaiian on the plate, below his soft penis.

“I put the order in before the real study,” Ifor said, “Good thing you stayed dressed…I…”

Risley recognized the trance, before he saw the bit of pink from between the folds on Ainsley’s skin between her now spread legs as she was cross–legged. Risley turned back to Ifor, the dedication of the gaze was apparent.

“Ifor,” Ainsley said.

“He’s…” Peace started.

Droplets turned to a yellow jet from the exposed slit of Ifor’s penis, a stream that poured onto the two slices of pepperoni.

“It’s ruined,” Risley stated.

Ifor gave a blank stare at Risley before glancing down.

“Keep going,” Ainsley said.

Ifor blushed as he peed, his golden juice soaked the pizza on his paper plate.

“Interesting seltzer,” Peace remarked.

“Sorry, I….” Ifor started, before he relaxed, his out–pour continued.

“Fascinating,” Janet said, “It explains—thanks.”

“It’s why we don’t go around naked,” Locke said.

“He be wetting his pants,” Janet said.

Ifor held his penis, squeezed to stop the flow.

“Damage’s done,” Risley said.

Ifor gripped the penis, aimed as he resumed peeing, moved it across the slice until it petered out. Ifor pushed the plate away.

“Careful!” Locke exclaimed as the yellow liquid sloshed on the plate.

Ainsley pulled the plate toward her, though the odor was already permeating to all of them. Risley felt his own pressure begin to mount.

“I peed on it!” Ifor said.

“Now I’m curious,” Ainsley said as she lifted the plate, “Warmer and—” she sniffed. “Fresh.”

“I…” Ifor started.

Ainsley grabbed the top slice of pepperoni, dipped it into the yellow juice, and brought it to her mouth. She took a bite, chewed for a moment, and swallowed.

“Eww,” Locke said.

“Bitter with an edge to the taste,” Ainsley said as she dipped the slice back in, “Says something about the cheap pizza you ordered when your piss makes it better.”

“Um…okay,” Ifor said as his penis stiffened back up, “Next time, I’ll pee into a cup for you.”

“Do that,” Ainsley said as she kept eating the urine soaked pizza.

“Not me,” Risley said.

Ifor took a fresh slice of the pepperoni, ate on that.

“Well, Ainsley’s got a fetish,” Peace said.

“What’s a—?” Locke asked.

“Something that turns her on,” Peace said, “And, it’s fine with us.”

“No—” Locke started.

“Yes it is,” Risley said, “We’re all different, and if Ainsley’s preferring Ifor’s…you know, let her.”

Ifor stood up.

“Have you seen my dick?” Ifor said, “It was hanging out, but my balls are now lonely—”

“Trying to emphasize your woody?” Risley asked.

“Just missed the baseball bat,” Ifor said, “Gotta walk because I already had two balls—”

“You’re sinking man,” Locke said.

“Should I mow behind home plate?” Ifor asked, tugging at his pubic hair.

“Stop while you’ve got two foul balls left,” Risley said as he stood.

“Leaving?” Ifor asked.

“While my pizza’s right here,” Risley said, “Figured I’d use the boys room.”

Risley’s soft penis swayed as he walked over to the stairs. He realized Peace was following him by the time he reached the top, so after he went along the hall, he propped the door open as he entered the boy’s room. Peace remained outside.

“Should I strip too?” Peace asked.

“Come in if you want,” Risley said.

Peace entered.

“That’s how boys normally do it?” Peace asked as Risley aimed his penis, “All the time?”

“Yes,” Risley said as he backed up slightly, “Watch it.”

Peace’s bra rubbed against his ribs as she leaned in and blocked his own view as his bladder released.

“So it is,” Peace said, “It…makes sense.”

“Thirty seconds is a long one,” Risley said, still pissing, feeling heat to his cheeks as Peace stepped back.

“You’re embarrassed too,” Peace remarked.

“Feels right to share, with you,” Risley said.

“Should I strip?” Peace asked.

Risley backed out, washed his hands, left the boys room.

“Like I said—” Peace started.

Risley turned around, stepped closer to her.

“Remember why we arranged for this?” Risley said, “To celebrate, one last time before we go our separate ways. Sure, we talk online, but think we’ll be allowed that at camp?”

“No,” Peace said.

“Don’t conform for the sake of conforming,” Risley said, “Be Peace, just be Peace, no need to strip tease.”

“You’re naked,” Peace said.

“What do you want to show me?” Risley asked.

Peace removed her bra, revealed the breasts he’s seen before. Risley did not flinch, did not hide, simply let her watch as his flesh moved fast, popped an erection in front of her.

“Truthfully?” Risley said, “Makes me feel dirty, my balls flashed across town, though I’m not upset because I wanted to experience it. Next time, the underwear will stay on.”

“Between you and me,” Peace said, “You’re holding up fine.”

“Though, I’m curious too,” Risley said, “That—between Ainsley’s legs, is that—normal?”

“I’ve got one too,” Peace said, “Instead of a dick, I’ve got that.”

“How’s this supposed to work with that?” Risley asked, pointed to his hard erection.

“Dunno,” Peace said, “Gotta be obvious because people figure it out. Supposedly babies come from it.”

“Not the stork?” Risley asked.

“I’ll ask Gretel,” Peace said, “Can I?”

“Sure,” Risley said.

Peace reached, held Risley’s balls, felt into them, and his hard erection.

“Well,” Peace said, “We’ll figure it out.”

“All it does is pees and pop a woody,” Risley said, “It’ll make its own mess by morning, so—”

A noise came from behind them, from the sanctuary. They run for the stairs, went down fast, into a darken basement with snoring. Risley’s eyes adjusted enough to make out the figures on the sleeping bags; Ifor laying upward on one, with Ainsley’s head on his waist, while the softened penis laid to the side. Locke and Janet were on separate sleeping bags.

“I do sleep naked,” Risley whispered to Peace as he laid down on his sleeping bag on the inflated air mattress.

“Healthier,” Peace replied.

Risley rolled onto his right side, curled his legs, when he reached for the other half of the sleeping bag.

“Mind?” Peace asked as she laid down behind him.

“That’d be nice,” Risley replied.

Risley felt the nipples push into his back, the arm that wrapped around, and the hand that cradled his balls. Risley thought about objecting, but it felt right. Risley slept for a moment, as he peed in his dream, when he woke back up, this time on his back, as his hard dick spasmed.

“Sorry,” Peace whispered, “It…for a moment I thought I was wetting your sleeping bag. It’s—” her finger felt his slit still pumping out. “—sticky.”

“Living with a dick,” Risley whispered.

“I don’t understand,” Peace whispered, “But thank you for sharing.”

Risley felt the paper napkin as she wiped the sticky mess out of his pubic hair, off his softening penis. Peace pulled the sleeping bag back over them, and Risley returned to sleep.

* * *

1 _The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version_ , Second Edition, Thomas Nelson Inc, 1971.  
2 _U.S. Pledge of Allegiance_ , https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PledgeofAllegiance, accessed 2015-09-13.  



	4. Packing

**69 USC § 6690:** Any teenager or adolescent exhibiting the traits as defined in § 6680 may be enrolled into a diversionary program to elicit changes prior to employing measures described in § 6443.

Styrofoam, disposable, Sgt. Lovell Ulverston brought the cup to his lips as he waved his badge at the scanner, a badge of him in the black uniform of the Portland Police. Dragon teeth parting, the metal bars slid to open the door, and he went in.

“You and your espresso, Grace’s always good,” said Sgt. Malcolm Ivinghoe, tailgating into the corridor.

“Weren’t you supposed to be flying?” Lovell asked as they walked together.

“Call canceled before I got off the ground,” said Malcolm said, “Ifor’s excited for Sunday?”

“Yes,” Lovell said, “He’s spending today packing—seems excessive.”

“Likely shopping for a better swimsuit,” Malcolm said, “You know, to impress the girls.”

“Fruitless as the camp is segregated,” Lovell said.

“Excuse me!” came the call of a middle–aged blonde haired lady.

“How may I be of assistance?” Lovell asked.

“Finally!” the lady said, “My son’s missing—hasn’t reported in after going on a hike.”

“Where is this?” Malcolm asked, taking out a notebook.

“Anchorage,” the lady said, “He flew—”

“We can put you in touch with the Alaska State—” Lovell started.

“Not them again!” the lady said, “All they do is tell me to wait! I don’t think they’re taking this seriously!”

“This way ma’am,” Malcolm said, “Donald Faucher is our best investigator, he can help.”

Malcolm escorted the lady toward the elevators while Lovell went up the stairs. At the fourth floor, Lovell went down the hall, entered the office with several desks, and placed his cup on the desk wedged between the filing cabinet and trash can against the window. Four picture frames were on the window sill right behind it.

“When are the boys leaving?” asked Sgt. Spencer Piper from a nearby desk.

“Sunday,” Lovell said, “They can’t wait.”

Lovell reached, went past the older woman, his wife. He went past the younger girl a couple years younger than Ifor, before he reached the slightly larger picture to the right, not of Ifor, but a red haired officer at an age similar to Ifor’s.

“That was a tragedy,” Spencer said.

“Yes,” Lovell said.

“You miss them as if it were yesterday, even if its been years.”

Lovell turned around, the woman in black, Captain Sefton held a package wrapped in comic paper.

“Yes Captain,” Lovell said, “But I always do what’s best for him.”

“What’s that?” asked Spencer.

“A gift from a late childhood friend, about time I let it go,” Captain Sefton said, “Are they packing?”

“I think Ifor’s going to meet up with Grant,” Lovell said, “Anything I can help you with?”

“No,” Captain Sefton said, “I’m doing a courtesy visit to the fire station on the east side, I’ll be back later. Wish them luck, from me.”

Lovell picked up the picture of Ifor, his son in the green olive drab short sleeve shirt with all but two buttons ignored as the chest was laid bare.

“You’ll miss him,” Captain Sefton said, “Even for the summer.” She left.

“Oh,” Spencer said, “I’m envious, he’s going to have a blast.”

“Yeah,” Lovell said, “It’s best for him.” He glanced at those light bluish eyes beneath the brown hair; he was determined to help Ifor avoid being another one being found face down in a ditch with half his head missing.

* * *

Ifor heard the buttons on his shirt pop as he carried his heavy backpack toward the Max station, felt the sun on his bare chest down to his olive drab shorts, while a couple of clouds loitered in the sky. He came to the light at Broadway St, pressed the button, and waited. As Ifor waited, he glanced down at the front, he could make it out in the green fabric of his gym style shorts, the chisel point of his foreskin, and wondered if he’ll actually get busted for his lack of underwear, when the footsteps approached.

“Hey,” said Risley catching up, also with a large backpack on.

Ifor glanced at Risley, the same white sleeveless shirt, though with purple shorts that also hinted more than usual.

“Exactly how many of those shirts do you have?” Ifor asked.

“Mom found them on sale,” Risley said, “Dunno, at least a dozen. Useful. Could ask the same of you.”

“More than one,” Ifor replied as the light turned.

They crossed Broadway, walked to the Freeway, where they went down the steps as an eastbound train pulled in. Ifor and Risley ran, jumped on as the doors closed behind them. They walked to the empty back, sat on seats across the aisle from each other, backpacks to the side. Risley spread his legs apart as he leaned back into the seat.

“That was—a nice night,” Risley said.

“Yep,” Ifor said, when a bit of flesh caught his eye. Risley’s haphazardly adjusted shorts had a gap in the leg, the tip of Risley’s penis showed with its slit.

“Think we’ll do it again?” Risley asked.

“Maybe,” Ifor said, focused on the penis, “Your shorts—”

“Oh,” Risley said as he adjusted, “Thanks.”

Ifor watched as the cloth failed to close, but instead more of it, including a ball showed. Ifor held his hand to his forehead, tried to quell the temptation that was brewing in him.

“No underwear too?” Risley asked, “Maybe we should—?”

“Hold up Grant?” Ifor asked.

“I mean…” Risley muttered.

Ifor studied those eyes, before his own crotch, where his point had grown, the hard erection pushed forward in an attempt to escape.

“Sorry,” Ifor said.

“Don’t want them sending the janitors after you,” Risley said.

Ifor moved his backpack to the floor, between his legs, hid his erection, while keeping an eye on Risley.

“Not on the train,” Ifor said.

“Anywhere,” Risley said, “Oh.”

Risley moved the sausage beneath the cloth, when both balls appeared, dangled there.

“Just stay put,” Ifor said.

Ifor studied the lumps, had a hunch what it meant to him, when his friends’ balls seemed inviting, turned him on.

“Well,” Risley said, “We look like bums.”

“Peace liked yours,” Ifor said, “She even slept against it.”

“Okay, it’s agreed?” Risley said, “Pretend like last night never happened?”

“Publicly, yes, it’s a deal,” Ifor said. Ifor, though, kept staring at Risley’s balls up the opening of the leg as they rode along.

“If only I could get away with pissing on a pizza,” Risley said as they stood while the train slowed.

Ifor stood.

“That’s not obvious in the least,” Risley stated as he glanced at the sharp pole pressing against the green cloth of Ifor’s crotch.

“Nor your shorts,” Ifor said, feeling like he should be honest.

Risley felt the balls, outside the cloth, and blushed.

“Oh,” Risley said as he tucked them back in.

Ifor brought his backpack over his shoulders. Together, they left the train and stepped onto the platform.

“What are we going to tell Grant?” Risley asked.

“Paper it over,” Ifor replied.

Sweat began to pour out of their pores as they walked the mile, up the incline, to the small yellow house with a brown door in the middle of two broad windows; a garage was to the side and set way back. Barefooted, Grant, in yellow shirt and shorts, opened that front door.

“Where were you?” Grant said, “I’ve been trying to ping you for hours.”

“Slept in,” Ifor said as he carried his backpack into the living room.

“Me too,” Risley said as he dropped his backpack to the floor.

“Yeah, right,” Grant said, “Might try underwear.”

Ifor glanced at Risley, understood as a long sweat stain hugged the front, the same shape as the penis behind it. Ifor pulled on his own shorts, let the erection spring out from beneath the green cloth.

“As you can see, ten weeks of food,” Grant said.

Ifor glanced at the piles and piles of freeze dried food on the coffee table.

“Got the money?” Grant said, “This cost a fortune!”

“Yeah, don’t ask,” Risley said as he handed over an envelope.

“There goes your bail money,” Ifor retorted.

“Your dick doesn’t pay your way,” Grant said to Ifor.

“Um…” Ifor pulled out his wallet, removed a plastic card, “Dad’s letting me use this for—”

“Cash, I need cash,” Grant said, “Pilot—cash, the doubles, cash. You could try for a cash advance—”

“Um…not on…” Ifor realized the implications, “You’ll get the cash, I’m good for it.”

“Alright, you’d better pony up,” Grant said.

“It’s a lot of food,” Risley said.

“For ten weeks for the three of us?” Grant said, “More likely we’re short.”

“A bit of fishing?” Ifor asked.

“Yeah right!” Grant laughed. “We rarely manage even one.”

Our woods and streams have been over harvested,” Ifor said, “Wild Alaska’s different.”

“I did talk our pilot into taking a box—a single box, for not much more,” Grant said, “So we can put some of this food into it as a base camp—but we still need to trim our loads. So, lets see it all—I don’t care about your woody Ifor, your backpack before Dad comes home early—typical for a Friday.”

Ifor undid the bindings, turned his backpack over the easy chair; clothes and more poured out. Ifor glanced at Risley as that backpack was dumped onto the sofa. Grant inspected the collection of clothes, the three tents, three sleeping bags, a pair of camping stoves, several first aid kits, multiple hatches, among other supplies.

“Either a tarp or a three person tent,” Grant said, casting two of the tents to the floor.

“We kinda grabbed everything—we were running late,” Risley said.

“Standard procedure,” Ifor admitted.

“Doubt you want to carry everything,” Grant said.

“Like we said, we overslept,” Ifor said.

“It’s going to take some work—” Grant held up a football jersey to Risley, “Do you want to carry this for ten weeks?”

“No,” Risley said as he shook his head.

“And—all of these?” Grant pawwed through the fire pairs of blue jeans from Ifor’s pile. “Shorts only.”

“Wild Trekkers strictly prohibit—” Ifor started.

“Does this look like an official Wild Trekkers outing?” Grant said, “Even if your dick hangs out, shorts will do.”

“Bit risqu'e—” Ifor started.

“With your boner hanging out?” Grant exclaimed, “Compared with last night?!”

“What—?” Ifor started.

“Sleepover—I heard what happened and I wasn’t even invited,” Grant said, “I WENT to the bible study.”

“Sorry,” Risley said, “Peace liked my wiener.”

“You too?” Grant said, “We need to trim—” he cast the stoves and extra sleeping bags to the side “—can we shrink this—?” He handed the collapsible fishing pole to Ifor. “As to clothes, shrink it down—see what we can trade for a bit of laundry powder.”

“Wasn’t planning on—” Risley started.

“A tablespoon of detergent here or there—can shave a bit down,” Grant said, “As long as you don’t mind wearing the same shirt twice an outing.”

“Doable,” Risley said, “Just so long as I’m wearing something.”

Ifor smirked, he’d rather Risley not wear anything.

“And these—” Grant grouped the first aid kits together, “Trim these down to essentials, but we’ll definitely carry them.”

“Done with school?” Ifor asked, changing the tone.

“Dad got me a journeymanship to start after we return,” Grant said, “If it were up to me—even the police academy sounds like a better option.”

“Second box?” Risley asked.

“Single box,” Grant said, “Even one is going to raise suspicions, but two—forget it! And there’s a weight limit for the antique Cessna that’s pretty common in Alaska. Do you want to triple your contribution?”

“No,” Risley stated.

“Thought not,” Grant said, “We’re papering over quite a bit as it is. Anyways, I think we’ll have this licked—”

Ifor felt his phone hum and buzz, he answered.

“Ifor?” asked Peace, “Look, Ainsley got hit by a car, she’s in the hospital.”

“Is she—?” Ifor started.

“Not that bad,” Peace said, “Still in for observation, best if you drop by.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll hurry,” Ifor said, “It’ll be about an hour, give or take.”

“Bye,” Peace said.

“And?” Risley asked.

“Ainsley got hit by a car,” Ifor said, “Not bad but she’s in the hospital.”

“Grant?” Risley asked.

“Don’t complain about my packing,” Grant said.

“Deal,” Ifor said.

“Your shorts,” Grant said.

Ifor brushed the cloth, his soft penis went behind. Risley joined as they left the house.

“Race you,” Risley said.

Ifor broke into a run, Risley too, as they ran down the hill, making the mile in just under six minutes to the platform of the station. Ifor glanced at Risley’s shorts for a minute, could make out the soft penis before he thought better of it, stared at the cars on the freeway.

“You should have a drink,” Risley said, “Ainsley would like the outcome.”

“I never…” Ifor started as the train pulled up. They boarded it. “It was…doubt I’ll forget it.”

Uncertain if Ainsley simply did it for show, but it certainly had taken the edge off his spill.

“No regrets,” Risley said, “Apart from shafting Grant.”

“He’ll live,” Ifor replied.

A transfer to the streetcar, and they came to the hospital. They entered and Ifor turned for the gift shop.

“Upstairs,” Risley said.

“First,” Ifor said as he grabbed a bouquet of a dozen roses. Ifor took it to the machine, scanned the code, and swiped with the plastic credit card. “For her.”

Ifor carried them as they came to the desk near the elevator, a nun stood behind it.

“Ainsley Meriwether,” Ifor said, “Told she was—”

“Yes my child,” the nun said, “Fifth floor, second wing, final room on your left. Bless you.”

“Thank you,” Ifor said as he went for the elevator. Risley got on.

“Don’t even think about it,” Risley said as the elevator rose, “You’d get everybody into trouble.”

“There you go, always thinking dirty,” Ifor said as they got off on the fifth floor.

They heard chants and prayers coming from other rooms, some with pastors, others with nuns. Ifor and Risley went to the end, where the blonde haired Ainsley was inside on a bed. Ifor grabbed the empty vase, shoved the roses in, and filled it at the sink.

“Oh,” Ainsley said, “Other ways to fill—”

“Not here,” Ifor quipped, though he felt strange to be at ease with the idea.

“Your boyfriends?” asked a lady on a chair.

“Friends from Bible Study,” Risley stated.

“Never overlook the candidates at Bible Study,” the lady said, “That’s how I met your Uncle Henry.”

“Aunt Jeanna—” Ainsley started.

“You should thank the Lord that the car was actually abiding the speed limit—still too high, if you ask me,” Jeana said.

“What happened?” Ifor asked.

“Crossing the street in front of the store,” Ainsley said, “Guess the guy didn’t see that he had the red light—I forgave him.”

“Well, I do hope you recover,” Ifor said. He bent over, kissed her on the cheek.

“Broke my leg,” Ainsley said, pulled the covers to show the cast.

“Have a pen?” Risley asked.

Jeana pulled out a pair of permanent markers, one red, the other green. Risley used the green one to sign on the plaster cast. Ifor grabbed the red and brought it to the cast and paused. A mere thought, and Ifor felt the stiffening beneath the cloth of his shorts.

Enjoy the rain on your pizza parade — Ifor.

“How long do you keep the cast on?” Risley asked.

“It’ll be changed in a couple of weeks,” Ainsley said, “They’re saying August, maybe before you come back.”

“Leaving already?” Jeana asked.

“They’ve got a summer camp to go to,” Ainsley said, “Was it Beacon of the Youth?”

“Beacon of the Light Youth Camp—excellent choice,” Aunt Jeanna said, “My first date with your Uncle Henry. I still have that leather bound Bible he made for me. When do you leave?”

“Early Sunday,” Ifor said, “Almost a Saturday red–eye.”

“Then why are you standing around here for?” Aunt Jeanna said, “You ought to be packing. I recommend the King James and an American Standard – a good Greek to English dictionary would help. Of course, anything more esoteric, and it’s in their library.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Risley said.

“There’s more to that camp—” Ainsley said, “I mean the way Cody goes on and on—”

“But the wisdom of God is central to any adventure,” Aunt Jeanna said, “For without him, you’d be nothing.”

Ifor stepped closer to Ainsley, her eyes and her head focused onto his crotch, a grin came to her face before she glanced over at her Aunt. Ifor felt the fingers clasp over the cloth, traced the erection beneath, before Ainsley’s digits reached into the opening of his shorts.

“We can’t spend too much time,” Risley said, loudly, “We need to get packed.”

“Worth the delay,” Ifor said as the fingers teased the sack of his balls, “I’ll see you when we return.”

“Me too,” Risley said, tugging on Ifor’s shoulder.

Ifor leaned over, kissed Ainsley on the cheek before Risley pulled on Ifor.

“Lovebirds?” Ainsley’s Aunt Jeanna asked.

“No!” Ainsley said as Risley brought Ifor outside into the hall.

“You—we—” Ifor started.

“You seem…” Risley started before he hushed them both.

“You see Ainsley, that’s a nice fellow,” Jeanna said, “When your parents return from Seattle, I’ll talk to them about getting you into a study program. He’s going to be sharp on his Bibles when he returns, and so you want to be, if you stand a chance of catching him. He brought flowers and kissed you—he may as well be a boyfriend.”

“Aunt—!” Ainsley started.

“It’s the truth,” Jeanna said, “Date him, marry him, and settle down. That will make you happy—it did for me, and your mother.”

Ifor sighed as Risley forced him to walk.

“See what I mean?” Ifor said.

“Mean what?” Risley asked as they got into the elevator, “You both got the hots—clear as day, she’s got them for you and you for her, it happens.”

“You and Peace?” Ifor asked.

“You’re misreading—” Risley started.

“As are you,” Ifor said, “Ainsley’s a friend who got injured, it’s the polite thing to do.”

“Ha!” Risley said, “Pissing into her cup would’ve done more than those flowers to cheer her up.”

“What happens in Bible Study stays in Bible Study,” Ifor said, “Right?”

They reached the bottom, stayed quiet until they left the hospital, when Risley’s phone buzzed.

“Grant’s Dad is now home,” Risley said, “Says to drive over in a couple of hours.”

“Guess it means I’m going home for now,” Ifor said.

“Better option than my home,” Risley said as they walked along.

They took the streetcar to Briarwood Avenue, came to the green house on the corner, hill sloped away from the front to the back. Up the front steps, left through the living room, before taking a sharp right up the stairs, to the top that shared a window with two doors. Right, into the room with half an attic, the ceiling sloped from a low wall up to the high wall.

“May I?” Risley asked as he reached for the tablet on the desk.

“Sure,” Ifor said as he pulled his shirt and shorts off, sat on his bed, stared at the blank screen come to life

Risley pulled his shirt off, dropped his shorts onto the cluttered hardwood floor.

“What’s this asking for?” Risley asked.

Ifor recognized it, a simple pinocchio with a growing runny nose.

“It is my account,” Ifor said.

“Where’s my—I’ll go to—” Risley said.

“Empty the bucket when you leave,” Ifor said.

Risley turned, faced Ifor, before a hunt of the floor, the bucket between them.

“As is, part of the authentication,” Ifor lied, “It needs your butt.”

“That’s what that is?” Risley said, “Always something more.”

Ifor, though, surveyed Risley. Brown pubic hair, above the penis that Risley was retracting the foreskin to expose the pink glans. Ifor watched the slit, came to realize the secret he bore, the one apparent as the yellow began to drop. Ifor’s own penis reacted, lengthened, as Ifor watched the stream. Each round lump, the balls, reminded Ifor of the friend attached, each one desirable as Ifor’s erection stiffened.

“That too?” Risley asked.

“Yep,” Ifor said, his hard erection jutted up and outward from him, twitched. “Don’t move.”

“Last night really changed you, didn’t it?” Risley said, “I felt it too, maybe that’s why we ditched the underwear—you even wore shorts.”

“Maybe,” Ifor said, focusing on Risley’s penis, dangling in front of him, felt it work better than normal, as the desire swelled within him.

“Don’t really need me—” Risley started.

“Yes I do!” Ifor quipped.

Ifor studied those balls, two of them, back to the dribbling slit on the pink glans. Ifor’s glans felt the breeze as Risley huffed, blew. Ifor reached, his finger touched just beneath his hard dick, between the halves of the glans next to his slit and rubbed. Ifor focused on those two balls as he felt the quench and release.

“Why, that’s—” Risley started.

It was enough to follow through, that Risley was watching as Ifor’s stiff erection turned into a mini eruption.

“A wet dream,” Risley said, “But you’re not asleep.”

“I know,” Ifor muttered, it felt right as the sticky off–white pooled in his pubic hair and lower stomach. “Don’t understand it, but feels good.”

The screen changed, the BaldBlue icon with a pair of balls in a scrotum, was in the upper left corner.

“We’re in,” Risley said, turning around, “Apparently Jaimie’s pet idea is going to the moon.”

“Nice,” Ifor said, relaxed.

“Nothing serious anyways,” Risley stated.

“How long did Grant say?” Ifor asked.

“An hour or two,” Risley said, “Problem?”

Ifor stared at the tip of the dick that dangled below his friend’s bare buttocks.

“No,” Ifor said, leaving the mess in his pubic hair, “We can wait.”

* * *

“Time,” Risley said as his phone buzzed. He tapped the logout button.

Ifor hesitated as he reached for the green shorts, he wanted to dare it, but knew better. He grabbed them, put them on, before he grabbed his shirt, and stuffed his keys into his pocket. Risley put his on, along with socks and shoes. They went down the steps, a left, out the front door. A pair of hard rights, they crossed down the slope into the backyard, where it was; lines of silver on the forest green, a classic Ford F-250 pickup parked on the grass.

“How soon until your Dad wants it back?” Risley asked.

Ifor put on his green olive drab shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, before he pushed the key into the tumbler.

“He calls it a permanent loan,” Ifor said as he twisted the key; both sides popped up on the locks. “Well, get in.”

Ifor sat on the driver’s side of the wide bench seat, close the door, before he put the key into the ignition.

“I’ve only got a permit,” Risley said.

Ifor turned the key, all eight cylinders roared to life, and he put the lever into reverse. He backed out onto the street, before he stopped and put it into drive.

“Dad’s letting me drive this to the academy,” Ifor said, “Goes on how he and his former partner spent many hours restoring it. Dunno, but it is nice to drive.”

Stops and lights, Ifor made it onto the freeway for several miles, taking the interchange, and a mile more, before he took the exit. Up the hill, Ifor stopped the pickup next to the mailbox of Grant’s house.

“Lets see,” Risley said as he got out out.

Ifor got out, followed Risley back up the path, until Risley pointed. Hands waved from the corner by the driveway, Ifor understood, returned to the pickup and reversed it, backed into the driveway, past the house, to the garage in the back, where a wooden crate sat in the middle of the open garage door; backpacks leaned against it. Ifor came out of the truck.

“Sorry, Dad’s not too understanding,” Grant said, still barefooted in yellow shorts and T–shirt, “He seemed a bit perplexed, so the sooner we get this out of here, the better.”

“Your pack?” Ifor asked.

“That, he does understand,” Grant said, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got a suitcase—we’re wild trekkers after all.”

Ifor and Risley got to either side, grunted a bit to lift the wooden crate into the back of the pickup truck.

“Bit heavy—” Ifor started.

“Rather it be on your backs?” Grant said.

“No,” Risley said.

“It’s got that carton of laundry detergent,” Grant said, “A spare change of clothes on the bottom.”

Ifor lifted his backpack.

“Feels light,” Ifor said.

“I kept it light, mostly food so we don’t have to resupply all that often,” Grant said, “What I scrimped from there is in the box, which is where extra mess kits are—if you suddenly decide you mind sharing.”

“We’ve had worse,” Risley said.

“I remember,” Grant replied.

“Sure everything’s here?” Risley asked as he lifted.

“Maybe add a book or two,” Ifor said.

“And a large rock while you’re at it?” Grant asked.

“A tablet—” Risley said.

“How do you plan to charge it? You’re not getting a signal,” Grant said, “The map—it’s got eInk so it’ll work the whole time and it’s solar charged. Now, lets hurry so we won’t rattle on so much that the old man finds out—we need to get this to the airport.”

Ifor, Risley, and Grant got up into the back of the pickup with their backpacks. Grant opened the wooden crate, where the footlocker sized bright yellow box was inside it.

“Here,” Grant said as he set his own backpack into the crate.

Ifor and Risley set theirs in. Grant pushed the lid back, patted on it. Ifor pushed up, sat on one side, Risley to the other, their backs together as Grant grabbed a hammer to close it.

“Hey Grant!” called out Clancy, an older man and Grant’s father, with a tank–top white undershirt on above blue jeans, who came out the back door of the house.

“We’re heading to the airport to ship this—” Grant said.

“Airlines accept backpacks—” Clancy said.

“We checked the fees—by us splitting the shipping on this one box, it’s cheaper,” Grant said.

“Those tickets—” Clancy started.

“Don’t include checked luggage fees,” Ifor said, catching onto Grant’s bluff, “That’s separate—and, well, that King James isn’t a lightweight.”

“Smart thinking,” Clancy said, “Don’t do that too often, less people think you’re a genius. Can’t have that. I can help pay—”

“We’ll tell you the bill when we ship,” Risley said, “Shippers charge by the pound.”

Grant got into the middle of the bench–seat as Ifor and Risley climbed into the pickup.

“That was close,” Grant said while Ifor put the pickup into drive.

“Nice save,” Risley said as they moved back toward the freeway.

“It occurred to me,” Grant said, “We don’t want to check the backpacks either.”

“That camp does have hiking as an option,” Risley said, “It’d be perfectly normal.”

“You didn’t, by chance, pack—” Ifor started.

“It’s all acceptable for checked baggage,” Grant said, “But, do you want them inspected with our parents around? Ten weeks of food? It’d be a dead giveaway.”

Risley shook his head.

“Irwin,” Grant said, “That’s the pilot’s name, who’ll load it into his plane,” Grant said, “All we have to do is show up.”

Ifor changed lanes.

“Will the shippers at least take plastic?” Ifor asked.

“Yes,” Grant said.

“I’ll cover it,” Ifor said.

“I’ll also hand the bill to Dad,” Grant said, “We’ll haggle over the rest later.”

“I meant it when I said I’ll pay,” Ifor said, “I generally don’t deal with cash.”

“And I’ll still see if I can talk Dad into giving me money,” Grant said.

Ifor laughed.

“An advance on your share,” Grant said.

“This’ll be one nice adventure,” Risley said.

Ifor caught Grant’s smile, wondered what the catch was.


	5. Flight

“Tomorrow morning, four local teenagers are headed for the adventure of a lifetime sponsored by our very own Portland Police. A sponsor of a local chapter of the Wild Trekkers, Captain Sefton said that these four young gentlemen recently achieved the highest badge Wild Trekkers has to offer, the Golden Claw. Apparently the police officers decided to pool their personal paychecks to reward these four with another honor, a summer stay at the prestigious Beacon of the Light Youth Camp in Alaska. Best of Luck, God Bless You.”

Sunday, June 21st

“Wake up!”

Risley was shaken awake before the sun even threatened to rise. It took Risley a moment more to see his mother standing there, above his hard erection. Risley yanked the sheet, covered it and his pubic hair.

“Mom!” Risley protested.

“You slept right through your alarms and you’re about to miss your flight if you don’t move,” she said, “This isn’t like flying for work where you have flexibility. Your sponsors paid for this, so don’t make them rebook—if they’d even let it happen.

Risley sat up, his chest still exposed.

“I’m coming—I’m up,” Risley said, “Now I need to—”

“Car’s already warming,” Alyce said, “Get dressed and come out.”

“Alright, alright,” Risley said.

“Remember—keep it decent,” Alyce said as she left, “You’ve got five minutes.”

Risley walked fast as he went through the door, turned left.

“Ew,” Marcia said as she glanced out through her open door, at Risley, naked.

Risley ignored as he turned right, into the upper floor bathroom with its sloping ceiling. He closed the door and stepped into the bathtub, turned on the water. Rich and ripe, he smelled the yellow stream as it poured out while he lathered up under the lukewarm water. A rinse and shut the water off as he finished pissing. A towel, and he left the bathroom, dripping wet as he dried his genitals. Purple briefs on first, his white sleeveless shirt, and black jeans, Risley stepped barefooted into his shoes, grabbed his belt, wallet and phone, left. Down the stairs, out the back door, Risley fastened his belt with the oval golden claw buckle as he came to the blue Elijah Motors sedan toward the front.

“You ought to fix that,” Alyce said.

Black electrical tape held Risley’s belt buckle in place.

“Hello lazy head,” said Cody in a red T–shirt featuring a white Christian Cross, dragging up a suitcase.

“Good morning,” Ifor said, his green olive drab button up had two of the buttons secured above his blue jeans.

“Did neither of you two pack?” Alyce asked as she came to the car, keys in hand.

“We already did,” Risley said, “We checked baggage fees, it was cheaper to ship it, and tracking shows it’s already arrived.”

Risley caught Ifor’s glare at Cody, one that silenced Cody’s lips.

“Thoughtful,” Alyce said as Cody lugged his clearly heavy suitcase into the trunk, “Strange they’d give you a full ride but not pick up at least the first suitcase for an all summer trip. Get in.”

Risley held the front passenger door open, waved for Cody to sit in, before he went for the back. Ifor got in on the other side.

“Look at how thoughtful he’s being,” Alyce said as she got into the driver’s seat, “Frugal and polite.”

Risley caught Ifor’s grin as his mother backed the car out. They moved forward along Strawberry Street, headed for the freeway.

“Excited?” Alyce asked.

“They’ve got this one program,” Cody said, “Should teach me enough Greek to try my hand at translating a Gospel.”

“Risley?” Alyce asked.

“Hikes,” Risley said.

Ifor glared.

“Give her something,” Risley whispered as he leaned toward Ifor.

“Friendship,” Ifor said.

“That’s exactly the point,” Alyce said, “Oh, you’ll definitely learn what you need to learn, but close friends to back you? Those are priceless, treasure them, better than any sum in the bank.”

I84 to I205, the freeway desolate for an early Sunday morning made for a fast trip to the off–ramp for Portland International Airport. Alyce pulled into the short term parking.

“Honestly,” Risley said, “You could’ve just dropped us off curbside.”

“I’m seeing you to security,” Alyce said as she stopped the car in a parking spot, “Worth it.”

Ifor and Risley got out fast, went straight for the skybridge from the parking garage. Risley heard the squeaking wheels of Cody’s suitcase trying to catch up.

“Well,” Ifor said, hands in his pockets, “Perfectly ordinary.”

“Yeah,” Risley said as they came to the revolving door of departures.

Risley waited for Ifor, followed in the next sweep.

“Grant should be…” Ifor said, “There.”

In a black T–shirt and faded black jeans, Grant stood in front of the kiosk for Gospel Airlines.

“You should’ve done the check–in in advance,” Grant said.

“We did,” Ifor said, “But somebody decided to check a bag.”

Cody gave an embarrassed grin as he dragged the suitcase on its wheels. Ifor accompanied Cody to the line for the desk with the agent.

“Don’t just go rushing—” Alyce said, as she approached Risley, “Last chance to see you of the summer.”

“It’s only ten weeks,” Risley said.

“That’s their entire season,” Alyce remarked.

“Overweight?!” Cody exclaimed.

Risley walked fast over to the desk. Grant stood nearby, smiled.

“You?” the lady asked Ifor.

“No, I shipped ahead,” Ifor said, “No bags, but here—” he fed a credit card into the slot. “For, you know—”

“Are you paying for his—?” asked Sgt. Lovell Ulverston as he came over, in his black Portland police uniform and slacks.

“But Dad—!” Ifor protested.

“Hi,” Alyce remarked.

“Good morning to you,” said Lovell, “Seeing them off myself, on behalf of the squad.”

“Um, thank you,” Cody said, “Trip of a lifetime.”

“Did you not pack?” Lovell asked.

“We shipped ahead,” Grant said, “Cheaper than—”

“I’d suggest you going to keep a closer eye on them,” Lovell said, “If I were you.”

They started for the security line. A man with a large camera on his shoulder, zoomed in onto them, KOPTV stenciled on the side.

“Wish I could,” Alyce said, “It’s a simplistic and wonderful idea, but you know how work goes. I need to get ready for the meeting in Beijing next month.”

They came to the agent.

“I’ll keep an eye on them until they get onto the plane,” Lovell said, “They’re about to board.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said. She turned, gave Risley a tight hug.

“Mom!” Risley protested.

“You take care of yourself,” Alyce said, “And—” she pointed at Ifor, Grant, and Cody “—you lot look after him.”

“Yeah, we will,” Ifor said.

Ifor was the first of them to show the boarding pass on his phone. Risley and Grant followed. Cody, however, set the alarm off. Ifor and Risley stopped, turned around to watch Cody pulling off a cross necklace. Cody tried again when Lovell was waved through.

“One of the perks you get to look froward to,” Lovell said to Ifor, “The uniform—”

“I know,” Ifor muttered.

Risley walked along the carpeted concourse, fought the desire to kick off his shoes and feel it with his toes; made their way to the gate where people were already lined up.

“Welcome to flight 6897 with nonstop service to Anchorage,” said the attendant, “Per request of the Portland Police, their honorees may board first.”

“Dad!” Ifor protested as Lovell gave a hug.

“Have fun,” Lovell said.

“Later,” Ifor said.

“Personal experiences always count on the force,” Lovell said, “You’ll learn that in time. Until then, enjoy.”

Risley followed Ifor, Cody, and Grant, showed his phone to the agent, and walked down the jetway, boarded the plane. Ifor sat down first in the emergency exit row, Grant sat next to him. Cody took the other side, and Risley sat down next to Cody. Other passengers followed, began to fill the plane.

“You know,” Cody said, “You guys are full of it! Save the overweight—these are premium tickets so the first bag is free. If you had brought yours, I could’ve split the load.”

“No you couldn’t,” Risley said, “Ours would’ve been overweight too.”

“Yeah—ten weeks of food?” Cody said, “That’s worse than my Bibles.”

“Thank you for covering,” Risley said, “We mean that.”

“You can still change your mind,” Cody said, “Come to camp, I’d like it.”

“No thanks,” Risley said.

“You’re so set against this, that you’re—” Cody started.

“It’s not for me,” Risley said, “You know how I am in school—this’d be worse.”

“Open your mind, embrace your faith,” Cody said, “I mean, have you really considered trying? Do that, go to camp, and you’ll do better.”

“We’ve made up our minds,” Risley stated.

“That’s—” Cody pressed the attendant’s button, talked as she approached. “Can you find me a seat mate who won’t snore?”

Risley smirked.

“Wait until everybody else is seated,” she said, “This flight is not going to be full.”

“It’s open seating!” Grant snapped at Cody.

Cody climbed over Risley, took the aisle seat ahead. Risley moved across the aisle, sat next to Grant.

“He’s clearly not happy,” Grant said as the plane began to move backwards.

“If only he came—he’s not accepting of the fact he’s being left out,” Ifor said, ignoring the attendants speaking, “Mind you, we pestered him, but alas, he’ll have to enjoy camp without us.”

“If only he weren’t so crabby about it,” Grant said, “He doesn’t want to come, fine, but stop nagging us.”

“He wants to go, wants his friends with him,” Risley said, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Whose side are you on?” Grant asked.

“Is there anything we’ve forgotten?” Ifor asked, changing the topic.

“Now you’re asking?” Grant asked as the plane began taxiing.

“Well, you could ask for them to hold the flight—” Ifor said, “But they’ve got stores up there—if needed.”

“I packed everything,” Grant said, “Even kept the backpacks to about one sixth of your body weight—well, a fifth. Not to mention, it’s Sunday, doubt there’s a place open if you thought of it.”

“Fishing pole?” Ifor asked.

“Yeah,” Grant said, “Seemed a bit foolish, but we can’t utterly skimp and have nothing to do.”

“Books?” Ifor asked.

“Then ask Cody,” Grant said, “And I’ve got the map, so we’re good. Trust me, I’ve thought of everything.”

“Why do I think he’s forgotten something?” Risley asked Ifor, across Grant.

“Suppose you could try cutting back a bit more,” Grant said.

“I…” Risley’s fatigue caught up, leaned over as he fell to sleep.

…

Risley was poked awake three hours later as the plane shuddered, flung forward in his seat as the brakes were applied. The plane moved in fast, came to a gate at Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage, Alaska. They stood, Cody came a row back.

“Not too late to change your minds,” Cody said.

“Or yours,” Grant said, “It’d be tight, but we’d tighten our belts and manage.”

“And abandon—no!” Cody snapped.

They joined the crowd leaving the plane, walked through the terminal, toward the exit. As they left the secure area, they came to a small group of three teenagers holding a placard for _Barnet_.

“I think that’s for you,” Cody said to Grant before heading over to the baggage carousel.

“Hi,” Grant said to the three boys, Risley and Ifor behind him.

“Look similar,” Ifor remarked.

“Had to be—just in case,” Grant said.

“Hi, I’m Walter,” said a brown haired boy.

“I’m Gordon,” said a darker haired boy.

“And I’m Arthur,” said another light brown boy.

Cody came back over, dragging his suitcase on its wheels.

“Certain?” Cody asked.

“This is Cody,” Grant said, “If there’s a pressing question about us, he can answer, be sure to write our folks…a little bit. For the next several months, you’re Grant—me, Ifor—” he pointed at Ifor “—and Risley.” He pointed.

“That’s it?” asked Gordon, “Impersonate you three?”

“Best offer of the lot,” Walter said, “Thanks, very generous.”

Grant handed Walter a thick envelope.

“Tickets, expenses,” Grant said, “Later.” Grant turned to Cody. “See you later this summer, Cody.”

Cody took a moment before he extended his hand, shook Grant’s hand first, before he shook Ifor’s and Risley’s.

“Truthfully, I wish I were going with you,” Cody said, “But my calling…sorry, later.”

“This way,” Grant said to Ifor and Risley.

Risley followed Grant out of the airport, wondered where Grant was hiding these envelopes of cash.

“Where’s—?” Ifor asked.

“Like they’d fly out of this airport—with flight records!” Grant said, leading them to a yellow taxi cab.

A short ride later, they reached another airfield, with smaller planes, and got out. The cab left while they walked toward building clad in blue steel, on it.

“This?” Risley asked.

“As directed,” Grant said, “We’re doing cash, for those not wanting to be tracked. I’d guess the pilot is stiffing his firm, but best to go along with it.”

They entered the office.

“I’m here for Irwin,” Grant announced.

“Oh, it’s you, I was waiting—” Irwin said, dressed in a yellow and black plaid, long sleeve shirt.

“Didn’t realize we had to take a taxi,” Grant said, “Sorry.”

“Ris,” Ifor whispered, “Doesn’t he seem like Gordon back there?”

“Dunno,” Risley replied.

“I’ve already loaded your cargo—you can look if you’d like,” Irwin said, “Follow me.”

They walked out to a two winged, single propeller Cessna, with big wheels for its front landing gear.

“It’s capable of three hundred horsepower,” Irwin said as he opened the left door.

Grant leaned in. “It’s there!”

Risley glanced at Ifor’s grin.

“What—what are you thinking?” Risley asked.

“Nothing,” Ifor said, “Something Grant let slip.”

“What?” Risley asked.

“Now, feel free to get in, save the right seat for me,” Irwin said, “I’ve got to finish the preflight—already did most of it.”

Irwin walked around while Ifor climbed in. Risley followed, took the left middle seat, glanced at Ifor unbuttoning the two buttons on his shirt.

“Hot?” Risley asked as Ifor flexed the shirt halves.

“Stuffy,” Ifor replied.

“We’re about to get plenty of air,” Grant said from the left front seat.

Irwin closed the left door, walked around to the right, and climbed in.

“So, planning on some fun this summer?” Irwin asked.

“End of schooling,” Grant said, “Thought we’d take a bit of time, you know, before having to join the workforce, for real.”

“Old enough?” Irwin asked.

“Yeah,” Grant lied, “Eighteen last week.”

“Happy Birthday,” Irwin said before he shouted out his window. “CLEAR!”

Sputtering as the motor turned before it came to life, the rumbling went through the airframe, before the propeller spun up and vanished. They all put on the headsets.

“Alright, it’s going to be noisy, fastest motor I could afford, so better not to chatter,” Irwin said, “When we get close, I’ll verify with you before landing.”

A pull of the throttle, and a release of the brakes, the plane moved forward, taxiing to the middle of the runway.

“Watch this,” Irwin said.

Irwin pulled even more on the throttle, and the plane moved forward, fast. It leapt up into the air with determination, leaving most of the runway to all the others.

“Map!” Grant said, “My backpack!”

Risley turned around, grabbed Grant’s backpack, opened the top pocket, removed the roll of dark plastic, handed it over to Grant.

“Ten weeks,” Ifor said.

Risley turned, caught the smile, the fingers moving down to the blue jeans. Ifor’s fingers unzipped, dug in, and pulled it out, the tip of foreskin peeked out. Risley shook his head, Ifor nodded as he grinned. A finger to the foreskin, Ifor drew it out, a stiffening erection, until it jutted upward out of the barn door. Ifor leaned over, pulled the headsets aside, as he whispered.

“Needs to breathe,” Ifor said.

Risley snickered, shook his head. Ifor’s smile continued.

“There!” Grant shouted as he pointed.

“Quiet, please,” Irwin scolded.

Risley glanced past Ifor. Looming in the distance was the large mountain, a reminder as with Ifor’s foreskin, it was nature and the only rules were the ones carried in.

…

Well over an hour later, when the mountain has moved relative to them, Irwin spoke up.

“Let me know,” Irwin said as they flew lower. He turned the plane into a bank to the left.

Risley glanced over. Below were trees and clearings as the plane banked a bit more. They circled a clearing with a stream a short walk to the south, trees on the outer edges and scattered within.

“Here we go,” Irwin said.

Silence came as the power was reduced and the Cessna 185 glided down. An occasional grab of the throttle, an engine roar, and some quick pulls on the stick, Irwin brought the oversized wheels to tangle in the grass. Rumbling filled the cabin as the plane came to a fast stop on the rough meadow. Grant opened the cabin door.

“Fresh air,” Grant remarked, “Pass it up.”

Risley glanced at Ifor’s crotch, the zipper still open, the chisel tip of the foreskin protruded.

“I’m not into loitering,” Irwin said.

“Light,” Ifor said as he pulled a backpack up handed it to Grant.

Risley grabbed his own, light as a feather. Ifor tossed up the third. Together, Ifor and Risley pulled on the yellow footlocker box, brought it forward toward the door, where Grant and Irwin lifted it out of the plane. Risley climbed out first. Ifor’s shirt snagged against the front seat belt, he began to fall forward out of his unbuttoned shirt. Risley caught Ifor as the top center jeans button popped off.

“Okay?” Grant asked.

Ifor’s jeans began to fall as he stepped out with his pubic hair and stiffening penis exposed. Hands to his pockets kept the blue jeans from falling further. Ifor’s hard erection soaked in the sunshine.

“Wish I had done this myself—at your age,” Irwin said.

Risley wondered at the lack of a reaction, as Ifor’s stiff statue loitered.

“You only live once,” Grant said.

“True,” Irwin said, “I left the transponder in your box, in case you need to return earlier than planned—I’ll come as quickly as I can, but that’s not a guarantee.”

“Thank you,” Grant said as he handed over a thick, white envelope, with some green bills sticking out of it. “We’ll see you later—much later.”

“Yeah,” Irwin said, “Good luck, may you have the time of your lives. Just stand back—better yet, move this.” He pointed from the yellow box to the small tree a dozen yards away.

Risley lifted his backpack loosely onto his back while Grant grabbed the other handle. Together, Risley helped move the box as the motor on the plane began to rev up. Risley turned as Ifor reached them; Ifor’s hard erection still jutted out, backpack on his back. Grant stashed his map back into his backpack.

“Shorts?” Ifor asked as his blue jeans dropped along with his backpack next to the other two. He stepped out of his shoes as he unthreaded the denim from his ankles.

Risley, though, watched with the other two, as the engine revved hard and the plane moved. Forward, faster, the plane jumped off the ground and soared upward.

“So it begins,” Ifor turned, toes on the grass, as his hard cock loitered beneath his fuzzy brown pubic hair and above his balls, “Shorts?”

Grant opened the box.

“What?” Grant said, “My sweater—”

“You packed a sweater?” Ifor asked.

“After—?” Risley started.

“Check yours,” Grant said.

Risley opened his backpack, full of food like their box, but no clothes.

“Is all we have on our backs?” Risley asked.

“For me too,” Ifor said, on top of his backpack.

“Change of plan,” Grant said, “Since you obviously don’t mind, and you, Risley, based on what I overheard about Thursday or the project—”

“You mean this?” Risley asked as he dropped his black jeans with the attached belt. He felt the sun on his loose penis as he stepped out of his shoes.

“I can think of worse options,” Ifor said.

“Us, naked?” Risley asked, “Were you serious or joking?”

“Was joking,” Grant said as he dropped his own black jeans and yellow underwear, the circumcised penis dangled, “Now serious—or, we could summon him back, explain the misunderstanding at camp, to Cody’s delight.”

“We’d get these filthy,” Ifor said as he dropped his shirt into the box, along with his blue jeans with his phone and wallet, “Save them to fly back with.”

Risley pulled his white shirt off, added his clothes on top of Ifor’s.

“Shoes?” Grant asked as he dropped his black shirt into the box.

“No socks,” Ifor said.

“Carve up the underwear?” Risley asked.

“Well,” Grant said, “Can you tolerate this?”

They stood there, pubic hair, dicks with Ifor’s stiff, and balls, faced each other. Risley studied the permanently exposed pinkness as Grant blushed.

“Yes,” Ifor said.

Risley nodded.

“This feels awkward,” Grant said, “Really, really, awkward.”

“Changing your mind?” Risley said, “You—”

“Quiet!” Grant snapped.

“A little late—” Risley started.

“I said…” Grant put his finger up to his lips, aimed toward Risley.

Risley heard it, a humming sound that grew louder.

“Packs—now” Grant said.

Risley reached for the open trunk, his white shirt inches below.

“No, your pack—NOW!” Grant barked.

Risley was the last to lift his, joined in the fast dash. Their bare feet sank into the soil as Grant ran for the big evergreen tree near the edge of the clearing, shrouded in needles. They crouched as they peered through the branches as the plane above circled the meadow.

“What a splendid idea!” Risley snapped at Grant.

“Water under the bridge,” Ifor stated.

The same plane, with the same markings, landed and taxied over to the bright yellow footlocker.

“They spotted us,” Risley said, feeling the a strong urge, “Now I need to piss.”

“Don’t think so,” Grant said.

Irwin and a second person in plaid flannel got out of the plane.

“If we…” Risley started only to have Ifor’s left hand plant itself across his mouth.

Risley pressed his tongue into Ifor’s hand, held his penis and let the pressure release. Risley smelled it, as his yellow urine hit the trunk of the tree. However, they all watched the two men pick up odd bits of clothing, their shoes, and placed it into the box. A glint of steel, Irwin flashed a handgun, moved it while the eyes scoped out the clearing. The other man, hefty in strength, picked up the yellow trunk, placed it into the plane.

Pop!

A brief flash as the gun fired, striking on the grown between Irwin and the boys. Irwin returned to the plane, when its engine roared, and it moved out, upward.

“A setup,” Grant said, “I got suckered.”

“So did I,” Risley snarled at Grant.

“This isn’t helping,” Ifor said, “What do we do? We left tracks—”

“And we were going to call for a lift in two months,” Grant said, “They’d simply have to wait—we can hope they’ll be polite upon return, or hike it out—my phone’s in that box.”

“All of ours are,” Risley said, “And wallets.”

“Enough!” Ifor said, “I say we hike—how far?”

“At least two—maybe three hundred miles,” Grant said, “We’ve got food in our packs—we can stretch that a bit. Rest was—well, it’s gone.”

“And your fishing rod?” Ifor asked.

“Take me for a fool?” Grant asked.

“A naked fool,” Risley stated.

Again, they heard the hum of the motor, as it returned. They froze, still beneath the tree, as the plane flew overhead. It circled twice, went straight over top of them, before it continued. A long rifle barrel protruded from a window and fired, away from the boys’ direction. Shooting continued.


	6. Trek

“You idiot, Irwin! You failed to check their story and assumed it was a referral—they’re sixteen! And they were not even being considered—yet. We can’t offer up…children as trophies.”

“They paid good money,” Irwin said.

“Should’ve played the gig straight, a positive review would’ve done wonders for future referrals. Instead, we’ve got this mess.”

“What should we do?” Irwin asked, “We’ve got others already.”

“See how it plays out. If they’ve got half a brain, they’re making a beeline for civilization, but accidents do occur. So, for now, keep an eye on them. The others—business as usual.”

Ifor, Risley, and Grant continued huddling beneath the tree as the plane flew away. All three naked with their backpacks on their backs. Risley felt the wind sweep his bare butt, his balls loose between his legs.

“That settles it,” Ifor said, “We run for it.”

“Agreed,” Risley said.

Hum of the motor continued to fade.

“Come,” Grant said, “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

“That was kinda the point,” Ifor remarked.

Grant walked out of the tree, back into the clearing.

“Is that wise?” Risley asked.

“To get to Fairbanks, yes,” Grant said, “And yes, it’s a bit further, but given that we flew out of Anchorage—he’ll expect us to return to there.”

Risley’s dick swung and flopped, along with Grant’s, as they trotted across the grassy meadow. Blue caught Risley’s eye near the other side of the clearing, and he stopped, picked up the familiar object.

“My wallet!” Risley exclaimed.

“Mine—um…” Ifor said as he held up a shard of his blue jeans near a bag of empty candy wrappers.

“Hurry,” Grant said, his hands pushed on Risley’s bare buttocks.

Risley slowed a moment, felt the surge, glanced down as his flesh firmed up, and his his erection jutted outward.

“Feel better?” Ifor asked.

Grant pushed again.

“Faster,” Grant said.

“You gave…never mind,” Risley stated.

Grant pushed some more on Risley’s bare buttocks, and Risley sped up. They made it to the other side of the meadow, into the thicker trees, and headed north, when Grant pushed again.

“Liking my bum?” Risley asked, his hard erection jutting outward from beneath his pubic hair.

“You’re nervous,” Ifor said to Grant, “Who did you hire?”

“A demon—must be,” Grant said, “Look…” He pointed to some black bits of cloth. “My shirt?

Green, blue, purple, white, and yellow cloth were among the shreds.

“We just—” Risley started.

“Hurry,” Grant said, moving faster ahead of Ifor and Risley, “Turn—just a moment, close your eyes.”

Risley, though, studied the butt with a whitehead about to burst, the circumcised penis that loitered between the legs, as the golden stream dashed down. Risley, though, caught the glance from Ifor. Ifor’s hand batted his own hard erection with the balls below, before pointed at Risley. Risley understood, Ifor noticed them both with boners on display.

“It’s nothing,” Risley insisted.

“Hurry,” Grant said, breaking back into the jog.

Risley panted as they turned right, and they ran between the trees for many minutes.

“Ow!” Ifor yelled.

Grant came to a halt, turned around. Risley turned. Ifor kept jumping while holding his right foot, his penis rapidly softened.

“We should’ve considered boots,” Ifor said, rubbing his tiny toe, “Stupid root.”

“Guess we’ll have to take it slower,” Grant said.

“What’s worrying you?” Risley asked.

Grant stood there, blushed. Risley glanced down below the pink nipples, to the partially aroused penis, with its mild curve, flinched upward.

“Ignore it,” Ifor said to Grant.

Risley returned his eyes back to Grant’s face.

“Thought it a myth to scare the unprepared,” Grant said.

“We’re naked,” Risley stated.

“What’s in your wallet?” Grant asked.

Risley reached, removed the blue nylon, and opened it. A single banknote and his Billy Graham High School student identification card.

“Swear I had more,” Risley said.

“He knows our plans, planted sweets to explain our disappearances,” Grant said, “We lied, we covered up, and we won’t be missed for months—he knows that, he knows where we intend to hike. For whatever reason, he’s hunting us.”

“Why?” Risley asked.

“Sport,” Ifor suggested, “After a bear or moose, where’s the challenge? Unless its human.”

“I wanted an unspoiled coast,” Grant said, “Seaside will have to do.”

“I forgive you,” Ifor said as he limped over, patted Grant on the shoulder, “We’ll manage—” Ifor’s eyes turned to Risley. “Before any more sassy comments, need I mention that time with the spray paint?”

Risley extended his left hand over to Grant, who took it. Risley’s right moved, curled around Grant’s semiflaccid shaft, shook both. Grant’s right hand wrapped around Risley’s hard cock.

“I forgive,” Risley said.

“Is this—?” Ifor asked.

“More sincere,” Risley said as he felt Grant’s flesh firm up against the palm, “Your toe?”

“Almost better,” Ifor said, with a bit of a limp, “Going to keep that up?”

Grant’s hand was still shaking and pumping Risley’s flesh. Risley felt it, the push, touch, the attention it was getting, made him quite aware it was there, valued.

“Seen Blake do it,” Grant said, “He’d hide—but I’d get a boner, however, this—”

“Whoa!” Risley felt it, the spasm, “Keep….”

Pressure released under the watchful eyes of all three of them, the off–white liquid that shot out of Risley’s slit, slobbered onto Grant’s right hand, a hand that held on as Risley stumbled for a moment, as his penis had just been quite personal, but alright in the hands of his friend.

“Sorry,” Risley said, “Didn’t mean to piss—”

“It’s definitely not piss,” Ifor said, “No, it’s—”

“A wet dream,” Grant said, “So sorry—if I hadn’t—”

“Thank you,” Risley said, “It feels good and you’re most definitely forgiven.”

“Ah,” Grant said as Risley’s stiffness shrank, “Boner no more.”

“Lets keep moving,” Ifor said, “I’m willing to trust your hunch.”

“I’ve got the map,” Grant said as he pulled out the roll of plastic, “Single file so it’s one set of tracks.”

“Means I’ll have to see your butt,” Risley said.

“Rather see mine?” Ifor asked.

Grant orientated the map and continued walking. Ifor followed.

“I didn’t agree to that,” Risley said.

“Nor did you reject it,” Grant replied.

Despite the shrubs and birds, Risley found himself studying Ifor’s butt as they walked. Fleshy cheeks repeatedly flexed with the gait beneath the bottom of the pack. Ifor’s scrotum jostled, repeatedly showed between the thighs, while the foreskin tip swung around.

“Wish I had hung around after Bible Study,” Grant said, “Was it like this? Exploring yourselves?”

“We didn’t do much,” Risley replied.

Pfffpt!

Risley smelled it from Ifor.

“You got naked—” Grant started.

“Not intentionally, not by me,” Ifor said, “Was supposed to be underwear, which would be nice about now. Peace and Janet kept theirs on.”

“Girls saw your dicks,” Grant said, “That’s important, Blake said so. What else?”

“Had pizza—little else,” Ifor said.

Risley snickered. He remembered the soaking of the pizza on the plate, the surprise after Ainsley decided to try it.

“Pizza, soda,” Risley said, “Some chatting—think the girls secretly held us to a beauty pagent.”

“Whose did they like the most?” Grant asked.

“They refused to divulge,” Ifor said, “Maybe they drew straws … they each had a different one by the end.”

“And what else?” Grant asked.

“It was a sleepover,” Risley said, “You sleep at sleepovers.”

Risley stiffened at the memory of Peace caressing his balls, his hard erection jutted back out.

“Where’s the toilet paper?” Ifor asked.

“Excuse me—?” Risley started, his eyes focused on the anus with tinges of brown directly in front of him.

“Let it drop,” Grant said, “A madman’s intent on killing us, so as you can’t trip over your pants, it’s no reason to stop. Lets keep moving and let it rip, or drip.”

“Tough while walking,” Ifor said.

“Then wait and hold it until it burst,” Grant said, “We need to keep moving, get distance. As we’re naked, taking a potty break ain’t a reason to stop.”

Risley hated to admit it to himself, but Grant was correct. Niceties wasn’t reason to stop, not even to avoid the sight of Ifor clenching his butt cheeks together, they had to press forward, it was still better than stupid camp. His hand reached, held his balls beneath his erection as he kept walking.

“Touching yourself?” Grant asked.

“No,” Risley lied.

“Maybe you should,” Grant said.

Ifor laughed.

“Need me to touch your butt?” Ifor replied.

Risley laughed.

“Want to touch mine?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Risley said.

“Maybe you should,” Grant said.

“Cody would freak,” Risley said.

“Good thing he’s not here,” Ifor said, “We’d be carrying him.”

“Ris,” Grant said, “Is he playing with himself?”

“Can’t tell,” Risley replied, though he squatted and caught a glimpse of the hand, “Likely.”

“Keep playing!” Grant said.

They laughed.

“Another wet dream?” Risley asked, decided it was best to entrust this to his friends, “What was that?”

“You want another?” Grant asked.

“I’ve managed it before,” Ifor said, “I don’t understand, but it—good.”

“Pact,” Risley said, aware he’s avoided certain topics on J, “We figure it out.”

“We’re going to get closer before this is done,” Grant said.

“What makes you say that?” Ifor asked.

“Only one sleeping bag,” Grant said.

“What?” Risley stammered.

“You want to go back and ask for the spare?” Grant said, “I didn’t scrimp there.”

“With nothing else available,” Ifor said, “We’ll likely need to share body heat anyways. Guess we’ll get to know each other a bit better.”

“I already know it can get a bit sticky,” Grant said.

“Hey!” Risley exclaimed.

“Cody would cite a verse about now,” Ifor said, “Screw him.”

They laughed.

“Are you sure we can’t stop?” Risley said, glancing at the bit of brown around Ifor’s butt hole, “Ifor needs—”

“I’ll manage,” Ifor replied.

“Still,” Grant said as they slowed down, it was already a bit over an hour since they had started.

A steep embankment of rocks in front of them, in an assortment of different sizes, which seemed to go on in both directions at an angle; not quite a wall. Grant pulled out his map, zoomed, while Ifor lowered to a squat.

Pfffpt!

“Likely the best spot, we’re many miles from either end,” Grant said.

They glanced left and right as they aligned themselves to face the uphill field of boulders; those seemed steeper than here.

“Come,” Grant said as he started to scramble.

Ifor groaned, but joined.

“I needed…” Ifor started but stopped.

“A moment,” Risley said, as he caught his breath.

Risley glanced up, both Grant and Ifor were now bent over in their climb, legs spread wide to balance. Both butt cracks wide, rings of brown and pink to the dark pupils of their holes, balls and tips of their hard dicks showed. Risley spread his own legs as he mounted the first boulder, now grateful to be in the rear as his own ass would be visible to nobody behind him.

“Come on,” Grant said.

Risley watched Ifor’s butt as he began to climb, the balls and soft dicks were tolerable hazards as it also let him gauge the steps and missteps; so he climbed a tad faster, caught up with Ifor, where the smell of Ifor’s butt wafted in. However, Risley glanced both pairs of balls were loose and free in front of him.

“Why are Grant’s balls bigger?” Risley asked.

“You’re looking?” Ifor asked.

“Your ass is in my face,” Risley said.

“Enjoy,” Ifor stated as he paused his climb.

Risley bumped his head against Ifor’s pack.

Pfffpt!

Risley smelled across his face, the brown spot grew rapidly as more gas exhaled. Sludge emerged inches in front of Risley’s face, long and thick, before the buttocks clenched. Most broke away, fell, but a bit remained, sticking.

“Feel better?” Ifor asked as he resumed climbing.

“Loads,” Risley snapped as he moved to avoid the new hazard.

Risley kept his eyes trained on Ifor’s butt as they climbed, where Ifor relaxed enough to let the butt continue. Risley kept moving his hands and feet, as he stepped around the droppings.

“Be kind and at least warn before crapping on people,” Grant said, “And you can feel my superiority—”

“Don’t shit on your balls,” Risley stated.

“I didn’t—” Ifor protested.

“I’m seeing evidence to the contrary,” Risley said, glancing at Ifor’s brown stained butt crack, “Both balls.”

Grant halted, waited for Ifor to pass, his eyes glanced downward.

“Liar,” Grant said to Risley.

“Um…” Ifor said, near the top.

A straight wall of rock, a bit taller than Ifor himself, was in front of them. Ifor’s hands tried to reach, but his hands fell just a bit short.

“Push,” Grant said to Risley.

Grant hands went for Ifor’s left buttock. Risley’s went for the right.

“Eww…” Risley muttered as a couple of his fingers slipped in between the slimy crack.

“Bit more,” Ifor said.

Grant and Risley pushed, while Ifor grabbed the root, and scrambled up the wall. Ifor laid down, faced downward, put his arms down.

“You next,” Grant said to Risley.

Risley felt the discomfort, knowing Grant had to be staring at his bare butt as the hands pushed.

“Up Here!” Ifor said.

Risley reached up, Ifor grabbed the left hand and pulled, until Risley could swing his right onto the root. Grant moved Risley’s feet to the shoulders, and Risley stood up. A left knee, Risley pulled himself over the edge, laid on the roots with Ifor.

“I need you both,” Grant said, “That wrestler and you.”

Risley joined, lowered his hands next to Ifor’s. Grant jumped, grabbed their hands. Risley and Ifor pulled as Grant scrambled upward. Grant pulled as well, until he was high enough to swing a leg up, his balls and penis dangled loose as he did so, collapsed on the ground.

“There,” Grant said.

“You couldn’t stop looking,” Risley said to Grant as they stood back up.

“Like you,” Grant said, pulled his penis to the side, bent backward as he brought them closer to Risley. “I hadn’t counted on you both memorizing every hair on my dick, but take a gander. I think I can live with it.”

“You can?” Ifor asked.

“Maybe it’s even better,” Grant said as he pulled up his balls, showed the skin, the faint strands of hair, “We’re warm blooded, let me know if anything hitches an unwelcome ride.” He balls dropped as he ran his fingers across his pubic hair.

Ifor’s penis stiffened, the erection jutted outward.

“Thought so,” Grant said, as he reached into the side pocket of Ifor’s backpack, removed a wrapped sponge. “Spread your legs and bend over.”

“I thought you wanted…” Ifor started.

Grant pushed on the back of the backpack, Ifor bent over, his legs spread. Risley’s curiosity forced him to watch as Grant brought the sponge to the crack and wiped at the brown ring.

“I can do that!” Ifor said.

“We’re all going to stink before this is done,” Grant said as he kept wiping.

“He can wipe for himself,” Risley stated.

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” Ifor said.

“He’d use both sides while guessing where it is,” Grant said, “Suppose it’s a bit friendlier than it needs to be.” He rewrapped the sponge, returned it to the backpack.

“Butt wipe,” Risley said.

“Very funny,” Grant said, “You’re next.”

Grant turned, consulted his map as he resumed walking. Ifor pushed on Risley, and Risley walked. Twigs, grass, and the occasional brier beneath his feet as he walked. Ifor followed.

“I wanted a change of butts,” Ifor stated.

Risley stopped until he felt Ifor push on the fleshy buttcheeks, before continuing.

“We’ve all got rumps, all butts about it,” Ifor said, “Walk abreast and we’ll have thrice the mooning power.”

Risley laughed, wondered if he could get Marcia behind them, overwhelm her with their bare butts.

“Should we have Peace or Ainsley judge them?” Ifor asked.

“Don’t need to go that far, again,” Risley said.

“So long as they look at mine,” Grant said.

“Confident?” Ifor asked.

“He’s got a crush on her,” Risley said.

“Do not,” Grant said.

“Next study—she’ll count your hairs,” Risley said.

“Not interested,” Grant said.

Risley glanced at Grant’s butt below the backpack, the pink tip of circumcised penis vanished.

“Gave him a woody,” Risley stated.

“No,” Grant said.

“You dropped your sponge,” Ifor said.

Grant spun around, his hard erection jutted outward from beneath his scruffy brown pubic hair.

“See,” Risley stated as Grant spun back forward.

“You misunderstand—” Grant started.

“Want to rewipe Ifor’s butt?” Risley asked.

“You!” Grant growled.

“Oh, I understand,” Risley said, “Like a toilet seat, best kept up.”

“In no way do I have a crush,” Grant said.

“So you don’t mind her looking at my butt?” Risley asked.

“What does her bare butt look like?” Ifor bemused.

Grant paused his footsteps as he spun around.

“That’s playing with yourself,” Grant said.

Risley spun around. Ifor’s penis was hard up, the scrotum clearly visible, and his hand wrapped around the shaft.

“You’re the one insisting on packing light,” Ifor said, “Don’t complain if I can’t put my hands in my pockets. And this—” He rapidly moved his hand along the hard shaft, his foreskin slipped back and forth. “Is playing with myself.”

“I wasn’t—” Grant started.

“What else have you failed to pack?” Risley asked.

“Do we need…” Ifor paused the tongue, while the hand continued, “What….?”

Grant and Risley kept watching. An off–white liquid shot out, leapt and surged, followed by several more volleys; the slit kept oozing a bit more, dribbled down.

“You did that Friday,” Risley said, “Felt good?”

“I never said—” Ifor started.

“Your wet dream, not asleep?” Grant asked.

“Feels the same,” Ifor said as he rubbed a bit of it between his fingers.

“Woke to Peace cleaning mine after the study,” Risley said, “Nice and all, but still.—”

“You never mentioned—” Ifor started.

“Sometimes it’s better to keep things quiet,” Risley stated.

“Lemme try,” Grant said as he grabbed his hard erection, spread his legs, “Maybe we need some rules.”

“Rules?” Risley said, “We’re out here so we don’t—”

“Rule one to offend Cody,” Grant said as his hand began to massage the shaft, “We play with ourselves, deliberately.”

Ifor laughed. “We watch you play with yourself.”

“Rule two to offend Cody,” Grant said, rubbing his exposed glans, “Watch our dicks, especially when we play with them.”

Grant blushed.

“Rule three,” Ifor said, “Show it off.”

“Doesn’t change….” Grant’s balls swung as he stumbled, his pink slit squirted out the off–white. “Oh, it…” Grant smiled as he stood back up, his slit still dribbling off–white onto the ground.

“Is this normal?” Risley asked.

“Perhaps it is,” Ifor said, “Dunno, have to ask Gre—her.”

“Who?” Grant asked.

“Never mind,” Risley said, “Somebody who’d likely know about this.”

“I want to meet her,” Grant said.

“Lets go,” Ifor said, “Risley, I need more of your butt.”

Grant led the way, Risley was next, and Ifor was last.

“You’re loving his butt?” Grant asked.

“Studying it,” Ifor said, “I have to write a paper on it.”

Risley laughed.

“It’s better if we don’t fight,” Ifor said, “And I don’t mind your butt.”

“You don’t?” Risley asked.

“It’s…it’s alright,” Ifor said, “Yeah, I can tolerate it.”

Risley shook his butt.

Ifor laughed.

“You love it!” Grant exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t have your butt on anybody else,” Ifor said.

“In your dreams!” Risley said, though his penis began to stiffen.

They laughed.

“I’ve got a boner!” Risley announced, felt it, firm.

“Advertising it now?” Grant asked, “Or is it a podcast?”

“Risley’s boner hour,” Ifor said, “Has a nice ring to it.”

“Come and see it!” Risley said as he spun around.

“Beautiful,” Ifor said, “We need more like it.”

Risley spun back around, kept walking.

“This is going to be a long walk,” Risley said.

“At least I don’t have to worry about damn footwear,” Ifor grumbled.

“Humans evolved for long walks,” Grant said.

“Does your Dad know you talk like that?” Ifor asked.

“Doubt he knows,” Grant said, “Unless Cody’s spilled.”

“Cody….Cody,” Risley said, “Know what I think? Watch.”

Risley paused and bent over. Aware both Ifor and Grant watched, Risley focused on the moss covered pebbles and forced himself to relax, which the gentle rush of water in the distance helped with.

Pfffpt!

Risley felt the sludge move.

“About right,” Ifor said as the brown droppings fell.

“Can’t he understand that not everybody can believe as he does?” Risley said as his butt kept pushing it out, “I’ve tried, I simply can’t accept it, not like that. This smells better than that…that load of crap.”

“Which we should be burying,” Ifor said.

“Great idea!” Grant said, “Meant to grab the trowel from the box—there because I realized at the last moment that I hadn’t packed any into the backpacks.”

“I wonder who we put in charge of that,” Risley said.

“You left it to me, remember?” Grant said, “At least we’re not waiting for you to dig a pit, and it’s biodegradable—natural.”

Risley returned to the walk, aware that Ifor had a good look at the freshly used and dirty butt.

“Hear that?” Ifor asked.

“Water?” Risley asked, the rush even louder as they came to it.

A small embankment over a wide stream, a good thirty feet across with a marsh on their side in the crook, flowing from right to left.

“Um…” Risley muttered as they lined up side by side.

“Just a moment,” Grant said as he consulted the map.

Ifor opened the side pocket of Risley’s backpack, removed the purple sponge from its wrapping.

“You’re—?” Risley started to ask.

“Best to cross here, I suppose,” Grant said, “Appears worse downstream, and I’d rather avoid the glacier. I’ll go first.”

Grant scrambled down the bank, his feet sunk into the small muck of the marsh, and the water went up to his knees.

“Come,” Ifor said to Risley.

Side by side, with Ifor on Risley’s right, they followed and waded in. Yellow dropped from Ifor’s penis.

“It couldn’t wait?” Risley asked as the water went a bit over his knees.

“Bend forward,” Ifor said, “Spread em.”

“What…?” Risley started before he did as Ifor asked. Damp and wet, the sponge went down the crack.

“I figured the wash was the best,” Ifor said, continuing with the wipe down, “Get it all off.”

“My balls!” Risley exclaimed as the cold water drizzled over his sack.

“I’ll warm em back up,” Ifor said, “Once more.”

More water before Ifor was hunched over, with a hard erection, squeezing the sponge in the water.

“Good idea!” Grant said from the shore as Risley stood back up.

A pat to Risley’s buttocks, and he moved again. Ifor next to him, and they came to Grant standing on the other shore.

“You loved that,” Risley said to Ifor as they stepped up to the bank.

“This way,” Grant said.

“How soon until we setup camp?” Ifor asked, “This’d be nice—”

Popping in the distance.

“Gunshots,” Grant said, “Need I elaborate?”

Grant took the lead, map in hand. Ifor and Risley followed.

“Truce,” Ifor said to Risley, walking next to him.

“Why?” Risley asked.

“We’re here because we’re friends and I’d like it to stay that way, even with Cody who’s covering our butts,” Ifor said, “While we weren’t planning on being naked together for the next ten weeks, truth is, I was kinda wanting to anyways.”

“Suddenly no underwear after bible study and your dick out wherever you could?” Risley said, “Heck, I wanted it too.”

“Embrace and share, it’s what we do best,” Ifor said, “Explore ourselves and share it, while we enjoy it out here. No secrets?”

“Sure,” Risley said, reached to shake Ifor’s stiff erection.

Ifor reached, shook Risley’s soft penis and held on until it stiffened.

“Better?” Ifor asked.

“Are you two playing?” Grant asked.

“Enjoying every minute of it!” Risley replied.

Ifor laughed. Together they walked forward, caught up with Grant.


	7. Walk

Cody felt the excitement as the bus came down the gravel, stopped at the large building before a field of grass. A large black haired woman stepped on, along with a thinner younger ginger red haired boy, both in matching green and blue shirts. Whistles hung around both of their necks.

“Welcome to Beacon of the Light Youth Camp,” said the woman, “I’m Valerija Sawyer, director. This is Tomas Hunter, who will be your primary counselor. If you have questions, concerns, take them to him. I hope your stay will be uplifting and fulfilling. Let us bow our heads.”

Cody clasped his hands together as he lowered his head.

“Dear Heavenly Father,” Valerija Sawyer said, “Bless these young men as they sacrifice their summers to seek enlightenment from your eternal wisdom. Amen.”

Tomas Hunter took to the middle of the bus as the director left.

“I do not know who you pissed off, but I do not care,” Tomas Hunter said, “Make the most of your time here, but try to avoid bothering me, especially with tears if you miss your Mommy. This is the dining hall, this is where you will come to eat. Inside are kiosks, go in and check yourself in and sign up for activities to keep yourself busy. Be sure to memorize the map to your assigned cabin, for we do not want any lost campers.”

Tomas Hunter got out of the way as the teenagers stood.

“You—” Tomas Hunter pointed at Gordon, next to Cody, “What’s your name?”

“G—” Gordon started.

“Risley Gillespie,” Cody whispered.

“Gillespie, Risley,” Gordon said.

“You first,” Tomas Hunter said, “Rest can sort it out for yourselves and don’t be a pain!”

Cody followed Gordon, motioned for Arthur and Walter to hurry. They walked into the large dining hall, with two spars, went for the kiosks.

“Gordon—” Arthur started.

“Risley!” Cody said, “Remember the names!”

“Ris—Risley,” Arthur said.

“You’re more insistent than most,” Gordon said.

“Gotta fool the angels,” Cody said.

“How’d you spell it?” Gordon asked.

“G—i—” Cody started. He prayed that this would work, otherwise, the angels would cast his friends down.

Monday, June 22nd

Ifor stumbled for a moment before Risley yawned, both still on their feet as the morning sunshine was basking their naked skin. Ifor tracked the foot Risley partially dragged with each step along the grassy stone, as a bit of gold drizzled down. Ifor stepped onto the stone, slipped into a skid, before his other foot caught himself.

“Did I—?” Risley muttered.

“My bad,” Ifor replied, figured it’d be better to ignore the little things.

Roaring noise came to them as the sandy shore went beneath their feet and a larger river was ahead of them.

“I think we’re slightly off—” Grant started.

“I’ll rest a moment, been leaving skidmarks in the air,” Risley said as he relaxed and fell backward onto the dry sand where his backpack propped him up in a reclining lounge position. Risley pulled on his loose penis, moved it to lay across his pubic hair. His balls soaked in the heat from the sunshine, loosened. “Just a wink…”

Risley’s eyes closed and he started to lightly snore.

“He—we—” Grant started.

“Admit it,” Ifor said, while yawning, “We’re not machines.”

“We’ve got—” Grant said.

“Study the map,” Ifor said as he sat down next to Risley. He removed his backpack and laid down. “A short nap.”

“We can’t all nap,” Grant said.

“Then wake me in a half hour,” Ifor said as he rolled onto his side.

Ifor glanced at Risley’s breathing chest, before he stared at the soft penis in the dark brown pubic hair. A moment later, the fatigue caught up and Ifor fell to sleep.

…

A light buzz in his ear, Risley woke first as the sky was getting deeper in color. A surge of white and Risley glanced at Grant, nearby, whose hard circumcised erection jutting upward spewed its lava of white despite the light snores. Risley again heard the low buzzing.

“Wake up!” Risley shouted, before he pushed Ifor off his shoulder.

Risley moved over, shook Grant.

“What—why’d you not wake me sooner?” Grant asked as he felt his slippery hard shaft.

“I hear a plane,” Risley said.

“I hear it too,” Ifor said as he sat up.

“I—” Grant stood and pointed at the tree line a ways down the river, “Too late.”

Risley stood and watched. A small dot, far behind the trees, moved slowly across the sky.

“Ahem.”

Risley stared at Ifor’s light blue eyes.

“Sleeping was _your_ idea,” Ifor said.

“And we’re naked!” Risley said as he gripped his soft penis shook it before peed in front of Ifor.

“Astute,” Ifor remarked.

“So they’ve seen us!” Risley said, “Me!” He shook the penis as he kept peeing, the stream jumped about before it petered out.

“If they have, they’ll be making a second pass to see me,” Ifor said as he stood, “Let them see these!” He shook his balls, ones that had a darker pink on the front side of his scrotum.

“Think those are good to look at?” Grant asked.

“If they’re going to make a second pass,” Risley said, “We ought not to be here.” Risley lifted his backpack, slung it back on.

“Yeah!” Grant said as he shook his softening penis at Ifor, some off–white clung too his slit. He grabbed his backpack. “At least you can’t complain about walking during the night.”

“Oh, we’ll still complain,” Ifor said as he slipped his arms into his backpack.

They hugged the trees as they walked up the river along the bank; Ifor and Risley were side by side as Grant took the lead.

“Love my butt?” Grant asked.

“Yes,” Ifor said as his fingers teased his foreskin and brought out his hard erection, “Gave me a boner!”

Risley snorted.

“You like it?” Ifor asked Risley, shook it.

“Never said that,” Risley said.

“You’re smiling,” Ifor replied.

“Okay, it’s funny, a little bit,” Risley said.

“Like you’re a chick yourself!” Grant shouted back.

“Complaining?” Risley said, “It could’ve been a big misunderstanding, go back and find them waiting?”

“Back?” Grant said, “We’re nearly forty miles away!”

“Where would you rather be?” Ifor asked as he shook his hard dick, again.

“Here,” Risley said, “Without a doubt, even Grant’s dirty butt is more appealing than whatever’s at that camp.”

“My butt’s not dirty!” Grant said.

“It is dirty,” Ifor said, “Don’t change it.”

It felt honest to Risley, he felt closer to Grant and Ifor than he had even the previous day, realized that perhaps hiking naked together was the best medicine for their friendships. However, Risley wasn’t yet prepared to let go of his inner child.

“Are we there yet?” Risley asked.

Ifor laughed, Grant groaned, and they kept walking, taking glances everywhere.

…

Pebbles between Risley’s toes, the rush of the water to the left, the gentle sway of the partial erection became relaxing in its own right as he walked. Jostling of his balls a welcome sensation as he studied the grove of alder to their right, a modest hill beyond, plenty visible even in the dimming evening light. Only the backpack on his back threatened to slow him down.

“Take a drink,” Ifor said to Risley as they approached a small brook that flowed a few more feet to the river.

“Huh?” Risley muttered.

“Not sweating, take a drink,” Ifor said.

“Good idea,” Grant said as he stopped, turned around.

Risley reached for a pocket in his backpack, pulled out a small water bottle with a light purple. Ifor and Grant pulled theirs out.

“You want me sweaty?” Risley asked before he sipped, grape flavor.

“Not dying is more like it,” Ifor said as he briefly sipped on his green, “You flavored these?”

“Got a little bit before that runs out,” Grant said before he sipped on his red, “Still, seemed a good idea.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Ifor said as he straddled the small stream, “In one end, out the other.”

Ifor brought his bottle back to his lips, the yellow poured from his soft penis as he chugged above, the pee fell into the stream.

“Not directly into the water!” Grant said.

“Funny,” Risley said as he chuckled.

“It’s what I learned from Bible Study,” Ifor said, “Even the most mundane is art—gotta see it from the right angle.”

“Watch me before you turn into Cody,” Risley said to Grant.

“Eww—slam!” Ifor said.

Risley stepped back, spread his legs, as he brought his water bottle to his lips. It took a moment before he relaxed. He felt the surge as he began to drink.

“He’s right, we are animals,” Grant said.

“Smart ones,” Risley stated.

“Take a good look,” Ifor said as he shook his penis, “We’re here to observe nature.” Ifor shook his balls. “We’re nature!”

Risley laughed, Grant smiled.

“You’ll definitely see this again!” Ifor said as he fully retracted his foreskin, the pink glans visible, “Isn’t it so cute?”

“We’ve seen it before,” Grant said.

“Give me a hand,” Ifor said as he took a step toward Grant, touched Grant’s hand with his tip.

“Eww,” Grant said.

Risley laughed.

“Oh, lets see how you like it!” Ifor said, jousting toward Risley. The pink glans wiped across the hand.

Grant laughed.

“Lick it!” Ifor said.

“No,” Risley stated.

“Your loss,” Ifor replied.

“Done playing with yourself?” Grant said, “I’m moving.”

Grant resumed walking. Ifor and Risley spotted the yellow drop as Grant peed with the gait.

“Come on,” Ifor said as he tugged lightly on Risley’s soft penis, “Come.”

Together, Ifor and Risley stashed their water bottles as they walked.

“Funny,” Risley said, “A week ago, I would’ve decked you—now…”

“Regret it?” Ifor asked as he stepped closer.

“No,” Risley said.

“Way I view it,” Ifor said as he wrapped his left arm around Risley’s neck, “We’ve got nature and us, that’s it for ten weeks, enjoy it. My dick brings a smile to you—it’s worth it.” Odor from Ifor’s sweating armpits made it to Risley’s nose.

“Are you two—doing something?” Grant asked as he turned around.

Ifor removed his arm from Risley.

Ahead, the river took a sharp turn as it went upstream, to their right. Jutting out across most of the river was the trunk of a large fallen tree whose roots were up.

“Ten weeks, perfect for having fun with each other,” Ifor said, “Right?”

“Yeah,” Risley said.

“By the time we’re done, you’ll hate seeing anything covering me up,” Ifor said.

“Sure…” Grant said, “This is likely the best spot.”

“Can we?” Ifor asked.

Grant, though, scrambled onto the wood. His toes gripped around the bits of bark that remained, extended his arms, and walked heel over heel.

Pfffpt!

Grant reached the end, three feet short of the other side.

“He can’t…” Risley said.

Grant’s arms began their swing, his muscles flexed, the buttocks clenched, as he pushed off and jumped. He closed those three feet, and planted himself on the grassy bank on the other shore.

“Ladies first,” Ifor said.

“You can see my weiner,” Risley said.

“Just go,” Ifor said.

Risley stepped up, heard the crunch of the insects beneath his feet as he brought heel to toe, step after step, moved half way across the log when the shaking started and became worse. A quick twist of his waist, Risley watched Ifor, who was only five steps behind, grin as he shook the tree.

“Stop it!” Risley snapped.

“Keep going,” Ifor said as he kept shaking, “You’re blocking the path.”

Risley twisted back, went faster, used his arms to balance, as the shaking got worse.

“Whoa!” Risley yelled as the rotten bark slipped beneath his feet.

Risley fell, belly flopped onto the swift cold and dark water. His backpack dug into the current, pushed him further in. Risley struggled, as he spun, beneath the water, until a boulder went between his legs and smacked his balls. Risley kept fighting it, the current that pushed his further down, until the backpack pulled him up. Risley jammed his foot against the boulder as hands pulled at his arms, before they pushed up on his buttocks. Risley stood first up to his thighs, when the hands lifted him by the shoulder, and guided him out of the river. Risley opened his eyes, Grant’s face was there.

“Still there?” Grant asked.

“Yes,” Risley said.

Grant glared as he marched over to Ifor on the shore.

“Of all the dickheaded stunts!” Grant said, “More than even this—” he pinched Ifor’s foreskin “—there is no rescue for us, remember that!”

Risley shivered, felt the cold water dripping off his backpack.

“Will you be alright?” Grant asked Risley, coming back, “According to your balls, you’re cold as hell.”

Risley felt his tightly retracted skin that held them close.

“Think so,” Risley said.

“Some jackass risked hypothermia on you,” Grant said, “Consider the risks as we’re naked and it’s nearly night!”

“Got nothing for it?” Risley asked.

“Some mylar—if necessary,” Grant said, “Lets not try to get there.”

“Better?” Ifor asked.

“That’s it?” Grant said to Ifor, “Own up and apologize.”

“Um…” Ifor muttered.

“You’ve got balls,” Grant said, “Use them.”

“Sorry,” Ifor said.

“Mean it,” Grant said.

“I’m sorry Risley,” Ifor said.

“Forget it,” Risley said, “Water under the bridge.”

“If I were you,” Grant said to Ifor, “I’d switch packs.”

Ifor took his off, reached for Risley’s, and they traded.

“Brr,” Ifor muttered.

“You dunked him in it,” Grant said, “Risley?”

Grant reached over, pulled Risley into a tight embrace, nipples pushed into each other, their dicks touched.

“Um…” Ifor said, “Don’t I get any?”

Grant held his balls against Risley’s, kept their chests and stomachs tight.

“Grant—” Risley started.

“You’re…” Grant eased up, his hand felt Risley’s chest, armpits. “Bit warmer. Shout if you’re getting chilled too much, but lets move.”

Grant grabbed Risley’s hand as he resumed walking. Risley kept up, while Ifor walked behind them.

“If you feel like it,” Grant said to Risley, “Take a dump for his feet.”

“I’m not…not ready,” Risley said.

Grant reached into his backpack, pulled out a trail mix bar, handed it over.

“I thought—” Ifor started.

“They didn’t take everything,” Grant said, “And digestion aids in keeping warm.”

Risley bit in, the almond and nuts and chocolate went across his tongue.

“I owe you,” Ifor said.

“Think nothing—” Risley started between bites.

“I mean it,” Ifor said, “It could’ve gone much worse.”

Grant reached over, felt Risley’s balls.

“You really like those, don’t you?” Risley said.

“I don’t have a thermometer,” Grant said, “These will have to do.”

A bit of a warm breeze blew across them as they marched between the trees, shadows abound.

“First time I’ve really experienced the midnight sun,” Ifor remarked.

“Helps us make time,” Grant said, consulting his map. An icon moved as they moved.

They came to a bank of a hill, some trees around, over the bits of grass.

Crunch!

Risley felt the snap, stepped back, to the long object.

“Bone?” Grant asked.

They stopped.

“Bones,” Ifor said, “Femur?” He picked up a long one.

“Skull,” Risley said as he saw it. Classic, with two eye sockets, the missing nose, upper teeth.

“Really?” Ifor said, leaning nearby, “How’d they die?”

Grant picked it up.

“Shot,” Grant said as he spun the skull, showed the hole in the back, “Not close, from a distance.”

“Here,” Ifor said, took the skull, “Who’d do something like this?”

“Do you need to ask?” Grant said, “Somebody’s who’s not civilized.”

“We’re not civilized,” Risley said, “Or I’d be searching for a urinal.”

“Here’s one,” Ifor said as he spun the skull upside down, held it in front of Risley.

Risley aimed his penis, let the pressure go, and his stream poured against the side of the bone.

“Will you—that was somebody, once,” Grant said.

“They’re not using it,” Risley replied, still pissing.

“It’s desecration!” Grant snapped.

“We definitely brought Cody along,” Ifor grumbled.

“Pardon me for not wanting the next skull to be yours!” Grant said, “I got us into this mess, least you can do is allow me to get us out of it, alive. Want to joke around, play, fine, but be safe about it!”

“Yeah,” Ifor grumbled as he dropped the skull with the urine draining out, “I want this to be fun.”

“Good,” Grant said, “Lets not have to carry you out or report to your Dad why you’re dead. Abide by that, and I’m all in for it.”

“Whatever,” Ifor muttered.

“Pay up,” Risley said.

“What?” Ifor asked.

“You said you owed—pay up,” Risley stated.

“Fine,” Ifor snapped as he grabbed Risley’s penis.

Risley grabbed Ifor’s, rubbed at the foreskin.

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Grant said.

“Whatever,” Ifor said.

Risley felt the hand rub his own erection, while he teased Ifor’s. Fluffy pubic hair hit Risley’s fingers as he rubbed along Ifor’s hard shaft. A moment later, Risley felt the spasms, all watched as his slit squirted first, sent off white into Ifor’s pubic hair, he stopped. Grant took over, rubbed Ifor’s hard shaft until it too, squirted out volleys of the boyish liquid.

“Feel better?” Grant asked.

Ifor sighed.

“Lets go,” Risley said, “A skull with a bullet wound?”

“Your idea?” Ifor asked.

“Lets not fight,” Risley said, “Nobody’s in charge.”

“Agreed,” Ifor said, extending his hand to shake Risley’s, “And everybody’s in charge.”

“Here’s the map,” Grant said, handing it over.

“No, you keep it,” Risley said, “You’ve got the head for it.”

“Before you decide to take a dump on that person’s grave—” Grant said.

“Lets go,” Ifor said.

“What’s this?” Grant reached down, picked up a ring of gold, “It’s a Billy Graham High School ring, class of—that’s ancient.”

“Hold onto it,” Risley said, “At least we can return that to their family.”

Grant secured it into his backpack and tapped on his map. They walked, left the skeleton behind.

“Who shot him?” Risley asked.

“Who’d you think?” Ifor said, “We’ve gotten shot at ourselves—they only took some of our gear though.”

“It’s a hunting zone and we’re the game,” Grant said, “It’s why I’m worried, because they gave us a bit, but not everything. We’re naked, so to them, we’re animals, not human, so it’s not counted as murder. We’re allowed tools, and some food. Guess they wanted something more challenging than tying us against a tree and … bang, bang, you’re dead.”


	8. Handbook

**69 USC § 7927:** Any person teaching sexuality outside the context of biblical abstinence is guilty of a felony punishable by up to three years in prison and a mandatory registration as a sexual offender for a period of no less than five years.

Tuesday, June 23rd

A sliver of wood separated itself from the stick as Ifor pushed the blade of a pocket knife along, the shaving fell as he rotated the stick and pushed again. Risley kept glancing as they walked along, Grant a few steps ahead, a stream not too far to their left, beyond a few trees.

“Pretty wise of you back there,” Ifor said.

“We’ve got a killer hunting us and we’re naked,” Risley said, “Gotta use our heads, because that’s the only thing going for our survival.”

“True,” Ifor said, putting his pocket knife back into his backpack.

“I gambled it’d calm you down, glad it did,” Risley said, “Grant’s right, we gotta think before we prank.”

“Still on for pranks?” Ifor asked while waving his pointed stick around.

“I came to be friends not break them,” Risley replied.

For a moment, Risley heard a bird chirp in the distance when Ifor reached, touched Risley’s penis.

“What’s that for?” Risley asked.

“You used a favor to smack me in line, means it didn’t count,” Ifor said, “I still owe you.”

“Said I was fine,” Risley said, “Friendship is more important than score—you know that, you’re a Golden Claw too.”

“Does that mean I can’t pay back?” Ifor asked.

“Never said that,” Risley said.

Ifor’s left fingers gripped the foreskin on Risley’s penis.

“Now?” Ifor asked, his own penis began to rise.

“You just want to touch my dick,” Risley said.

“That too,” Ifor said, partially stiff.

“What?” Risley asked.

“Ten weeks to know my friends better,” Ifor said, now with his own hard erection, “You think I’m making an exception for your dick?”

“Are you two—?” Grant started.

“Getting to know each other,” Ifor said, “Are we there yet?”

“No,” Grant replied.

“An advance,” Ifor said to Risley.

Risley decided to let it happen, his dick was already communal property. Ifor’s fingers teased the foreskin, the slit, and drew out Risley’s erection.

“Better?” Ifor asked.

“You wanted my boner?” Risley asked, the stiffness swayed with the gait.

“Yep,” Ifor said.

“Your entertainment,” Risley stated, unsure, except he caught the glances from Ifor, and Ifor’s own erection remained firm.

Ifor’s stomach growled, he dropped his stick.

“Anything to eat?” Ifor asked.

“See if there’s more bars,” Grant said as he squatted, “I need to…”

Pfffpt!

Brown droppings piled beneath Grant while Ifor opened the backpack.

“What’s this?” Ifor asked.

“What’s what?” Grant asked.

“Packing light?” Ifor asked as he pulled out an item wrapped in comic paper, about the size of a Bible, “This.”

“What?” Grant said, “Of all the pranks—”

“Gift?” Risley asked, “Is there a tag?”

Grant stood up, his pile beneath, ripped the paper to reveal a leather bound book with a faded label, _The Penis Handbook_.

“Who’d—?” Grant asked.

“Blake?” Risley suggested.

“And illegal,” Ifor said as he thumbed through it, “Very illegal, but interesting.”

“Any note?” Grant asked.

Ifor thumbed to the beginning. “Yes.”

Ode to our friendship and your continued need,

Love, Daisy.

“Who’s Daisy?” Risley asked.

“Dunno,” Grant said, “Has to be Blake, he’d be just the type to do this.”

Ifor closed Grant’s backpack, held the book.

“Didn’t know they had such a book,” Risley said.

“Written by…Verna Woods and Jefferey Howell,” Ifor said, “Pine Valley Press.”

“Never heard of them,” Grant said.

“I…haven’t,” Ifor said.

Risley knew Ifor to be lying, this Pine Valley had their name in the their J group chat software.

“I want to read it,” Grant said.

“Read the map,” Ifor said, “I’ll read it out loud. Some is about about growing up but three sections cover Anatomy—including what’s what below the belt.”

“Read it!” Risley said, “I don’t know what my dick is!”

“What’s smegma?” Ifor asked after he flipped the page.

“Um—what?” Risley asked.

“You’re going to learn,” Ifor said, “Do take notes because there will be a test on this later.”

Grant laughed.

“Smegma is that stuff beneath your foreskin—” Ifor said.

“What’s that?” Grant asked.

“Apparently…” Ifor flipped the pages, “It’s the extra skin Risley and I have on our dicks that you don’t have.”

“Oh,” Grant said, “Nice book, what else does it have?”

“Um…section on orientation,” Ifor said.

“Grant’s got the map,” Risley said.

“That’s orienteering,” Ifor said, “This…who you have sex with.”

“Actually,” Grant said, “What’s sex?”

“Chapters and chapters of diagrams,” Ifor said, thumbing through, “Um….doesn’t quite say, seems to be two, or more, people playing with their privates, though it does list the forms of sex—inserting a … a penis into something called a vagina is one of them, which seems to be quite popular.”

“So this is all about my dick?” Risley asked.

“This book calls it the _penis_ ,” Ifor said, “Not everything, but yeah, lots and lots of it, covers all about it, how it can be used, with whom, how it can go wrong, and consequences of use.”

“We’ll have to thank Blake,” Grant said, “Never thought I’d hear myself say that.”

“Yes, thank him about a comprehensive manual on how to use our dicks!” Risley said, “Say THAT loudly and we’d get referred to janitorial.”

“According to the note in the cover, it’s from this Daisy,” Ifor said, “Likely didn’t want to put his name on it.”

“Perhaps I was a bit too stringent,” Grant said, “A book’s good to have, better than some stupid Bible.”

Grant spun around as he stopped.

“So, why don’t I have—” Grant held out his soft penis with his left hand, right fingers hinted at the glans “—that … was it foreskin?”

Ifor flipped the pages.

“You were born with it,” Ifor said, “It’s called….circumcision. A tradition, usually religious in nature, or greedy doctors…must mean pastors. The authors advocate against it being routine, simply state its typically better to leave it and remove only if it becomes a problem, liken it to pulling healthy teeth just for the hell of it.”

“It’s fine,” Risley said.

“They _stole_ mine,” Grant said, “I want it back—you two seem to like yours.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Risley said, “I would if I could.”

“Like any other amputation, likely,” Ifor said, “Once gone, it’s gone.”

Risley stepped over the small fallen tree trunk, his balls jiggled.

“This way, right?” Risley asked.

Grant walked.

“What?” Ifor asked.

“Keep talking,” Risley said.

Risley have a couple of pats to Grant’s shoulder, wrapped his right arm around Grant’s neck.

“Thank you,” Grant said, “You’re happy.”

Risley glanced down at his own boner, smiled.

“Why not?” Risley said, “I’m out here with good friends. No shame in that, is there?”

“None,” Ifor remarked.

“At home, we’re supposed to cover them up,” Grant said.

“About that,” Ifor said, “They actually suggest not covering up is best.”

“Really?” Risley asked.

“They actually use the word evolution’ as if it were fact, hey,” Ifor said, “We evolved exposed, doesn’t trap heat or moisture, fewer issues, health–wise.”

“It’s not healthy to be hunted either,” Grant said.

“True,” Ifor said, “But I’d rather be naked, because I’m loving it.”

“Me too,” Risley said, happy that his boner was part of the club and wanted.

“Me three,” Grant said.

“Putting this back,” Ifor warned.

“Why?” Risley said as Ifor opened Grant’s backpack, “We just got started.”

“And we’ve got ten weeks,” Ifor said, “Want to go through it in one go?”

“No,” Risley replied.

Ifor sealed the backpack, went to the other side of Grant, wrapped his left arm around Grant’s neck. Three abreast, they walked.

…

Honk! Honk! Honk!

Risley, Ifor, and Grant stood at the edge of the marsh, while the birds preened themselves in the water of the small pond late that afternoon.

“Go for a swim?” Risley asked.

“Know how much bird crap is in that water?” Ifor asked.

“Camera would’ve been nice,” Grant said.

“And have it lockout because we’re naked,” Ifor said.

“There’s got to be a way to disable that,” Risley said.

“Like your jail broken tablet?” Grant asked, “How’d you do it? Better yet, I’d like one.”

“It’s a felony,” Ifor said.

“You’re both felons then,” Grant said.

“Hadn’t thought of it like that,” Risley said.

“We’re most definitely felons now,” Ifor said, “Yet to be caught.”

Risley didn’t need to glance down to know that, but he still did. Ifor’s soft penis, the light brown hair, the balls—the exposure alone was more than enough to put them in prison for life, if it didn’t go further. As wrong as it was illegal, Risley wouldn’t trade this time for the world.

“My legs are complaining,” Risley said as he felt the soreness.

“Lets find a spot,” Ifor said.

“Short rest,” Grant said.

“How far have we gone?” Ifor asked.

“Um…” Grant consulted his map, “Sixty miles?”

“Slow,” Risley said, “We’ve done it faster before.”

“Cross–country?” Grant said.

“On a trail,” Ifor said, “Still, I wanted this to last ten weeks, not two, so lets take it easy.”

“Suggesting we stop for weeks?” Grant asked.

“At least over night,” Risley said, “Debate it in the morning.”

“Okay,” Grant said, “Um…” he glanced at the map. “A half mile, give or take.”

“You’re being picky,” Ifor said as they resumed walking.

“Features so we can find our way back to camp, if necessary,” Grant said, “It’s rather big out here to get lost in.”

“True,” Risley said. Without that map, they’d be totally screwed.

Ifor picked up a thick stick, pulled out his pocket knife, and began to whittle it down. Risley’s left fingers first toyed with his foreskin until it stiffened back up, before they began straightening out the strands of his pubic hair.

Pfffpt!

They laughed.

A mile later, they came to a modest meadow next to a stream, a lone tree nearby. Ducks quacked in the distance.

“Here?” Grant asked as his flesh engorged itself, his penis ratcheted upward until it was hard.

“Yeah,” Risley said, dropping his backpack, “It’ll do.”

“Well,” Ifor said, “Lets see it, this sleeping bag, our only sleeping bag.”

“Got the ground cover?” Grant asked Risley.

Grant removed his backpack and opened while Risley opened his. Grant handed Ifor the _Penis Handbook_.

“Somebody deserves a waking wet dream for that,” Risley said.

“It’s actually called…” Ifor said as he thumbed the pages, “An or..gasm. Orgasm…sorry, that’s generic to both boys and girls. In boys, it’s called an eja…cu…lation. Ejaculation is what your dick’s doing. Obviously, not tolerated by the church.”

“According to the church, I ought to be ashamed of being me,” Risley said as he pulled out the black plastic with a silver coated side, rolled it out on the ground, “According to them, this boner’s a sin!” Risley twisted several times as Ifor and Grant studied it.

“Oh, how we’ve changed,” Grant said.

“I like it,” Ifor said.

“Me too,” Risley said.

“Technically,” Ifor said, “These are called erect…erections, means you’re excited and ready to have sex.”

“So, that’s what you want,” Grant said, whose eyes turned to stare at Ifor’s hard dick beneath his fluffy light brown pubic hair, “Couldn’t figure that out.”

Risley’s stomach growled.

“What do we have to eat?” Risley asked.

Grant spread the green sleeping bag on top of the cover.

“Actually a tad bigger than I was expecting,” Ifor said, “You grabbed the—”

“Larger one, yes,” Grant said, “When zipped the other one, we’d have a nice little space good for three. Unfortunately—”

“We got ripped off,” Risley said.

“Lets not bring that up again,” Ifor said.

“It’s made for two adults,” Grant said.

“We’re three,” Risley said.

“With the other—” Grant said, “It would’ve been fine and we’d have saved the weight of a bag.”

“Just means we’ll get a bit closer,” Ifor said.

“I was also planning on us wearing underwear,” Grant said.

“Any sense of privacy is gone,” Ifor said, “We’ll know when you have a wet dream, Risley.”

“Yeah,” Risley said, “And yours.”

“Like we’re hiding stuff,” Grant said, “Wanna see mine?”

Grant didn’t wait for a reply, immediately his left hand began to massage his stiff erection.

“He’s got a point,” Ifor said.

Grant’s hand began to stroke.

“These are most definitely supposed to stay private,” Risley said, “I don’t need a church or a handbook to know that.”

“Like there’s a wall for a hundred miles,” Ifor said, “I’d rather not hide it from you two.”

“Really?” Risley asked.

“It’s…” Grant started.

Grant stumbled as the off–white shot from the slit of his circumcised hard penis. A small series of puddles were in the grass below him.

“Are those…” Risley glanced at Grant’s sack. “Your balls?”

“His test…testicles,” Ifor said, glancing at the book, “They make…sperm that is mixed to become semen, which is what that is.”

“Of course, not being at home, nothing to good to wipe this up,” Grant said.

“Let it be,” Ifor said, “Looks better like this.”

“Really?” Risley asked, glancing at the slit to Grant’s softening penis. Bubble of the nearly clear off–white loitered on it.

“It’s meant to be used,” Ifor said, “No shame in advertising that it’s been used.”

“Means you like seeing it like this,” Grant said, pointed to his pink glans, a droplet fell from the slit.

“That too,” Ifor said.

“You do?” Risley asked.

“Ten weeks and naked,” Ifor said, “Means we’ll see the good and ugly, both sides to beautiful friends. I’d rather worship you than some invisible jerk in the sky. Where’s the stove?”

“Not right next to the sleeping bag,” Grant said, “Just a moment.”

Grant’s buttocks bared themselves as he bent back over, the pink scrotum between his legs as he dug in. Risley wondered how Ifor considered it beautiful, but conceded it was better than the jerk. Grant’s dirty butt hole reminded Risley that his own was likely just as dirty. Risley opened his backpack, pulled out the bar of soap in nylon.

“Is that—?” Ifor asked.

“Yep,” Grant said, pulled out a zip stove, “Need kindling for fuel—no canisters required, crucial because we couldn’t have shipped so fast if we had fuel in our gear.”

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Ifor said to Risley, “I’ll come.”

“Remember that has to last ten weeks!” Grant said, following with a couple of pots, one large, one small.

Risley climbed down the bank, shivered as he entered the cold stream, waded until the water was half way up his thighs. Ifor came up behind him, while Grant filled up his pots.

“Remember to boil that!” Risley shouted to Grant as he dipped the soap into the water.

“Grant’s—he reminded you to clean?” Ifor asked.

“Yeah,” Risley replied, lathering beneath his armpits.

“Like I said, good and ugly,” Ifor said.

“True,” Risley said, “Still, motivation to wash up.”

Risley glanced at Ifor’s hard erection.

“Nothing discourages that thing,” Risley said, soaping his hair.

“I’m having fun,” Ifor said, “You?”

“Yeah,” Risley said as he soaped up his face, “Well, bath water could be a tad warmer.”

Ifor snorted.

“I’ll clean your butt if you do mine,” Ifor said as he took the soap, “See if I’m still having fun.”

Risley bent over, felt the fingers working his crack as he rinsed his hair, his face. Risley glanced between his legs, his own erection returned, Ifor’s was loitering behind. Fingers pushed inward, pulled, before Ifor scooped up water. More fingers as the cold water poured, and Risley shivered again, his balls held tight by his pouch beneath the stiff shaft; a bead of a clear liquid dangled from his slit.

Pfffpt!

“That’s totally you,” Ifor said, “And fine.”

“Nothing disgusts you, does it?” Risley asked as the fingers soaped up his sack, his hard shaft.

“Embrace the disgusting,” Ifor said as he splashed the cold water across Risley’s balls, hard cock. “I’d rather have a disgusting side to my friend than no friend at all. And if this is the most disgusting you can get, I’ll take it.” Ifor’s finger wiped the tip of Risley’s stiff cock, wiped away the clear liquid, before his hands went into the water.

Risley stood, shivered a bit, as Ifor washed his hands.

“Suppose…” Risley said, “Get your sponge.”

“Then you’d just have to clean it too,” Ifor said as he handed the soap back to Risley and bent over.

Risley stared for a moment, at those round cheeks, the crack between them, and the dirty opening, the tight skin held the testicles close to the shaft, all exposed. Risley gritted his teeth, dunked the soap in the water, lathered his hands up, before he brought it to Ifor’s skin. Risley’s own stiffness loosened.

“Bet you’re loving this,” Risley said as his own soft penis returned.

“That too,” Ifor said, “Still, it’s either you or Grant, and Grant’s cooking. I’ll wash Grant’s when its time.”

Risley felt the taught and tough muscle as he rubbed the brown away from Ifor’s skin. Another dunk, another lather, Risley repeated, felt along the opening.

“All the way in,” Ifor said, his dick twitched.

Risley felt the warmth and the slick as he kept working Ifor’s anus with the fingers, removed the brown slide by slide and repeatedly rinsed his fingers in the water.

“Give me the soap,” Ifor said, “I can handle my balls…I meant testicles.”

“Balls sound better,” Risley said, as he rested the soap in the middle of Ifor’s back, “I prefer those over this.”

Risley scooped up water, poured it down the crack.

“Ow….cold,” Ifor said.

“Grant’s boiling water,” Risley said, rinsing Ifor’s anus.

“That’s dinner and dishes,” Ifor said.

Risley lathered his hands again, rubbed across Ifor’s testicles, and he made out the color transition, from skin pink to more pink toward the front.

“Is this supposed to be a different shade of pink on the front?” Risley asked.

“Always been like that,” Ifor said.

Risley reached, cleaned into the pubic hair, before he worked the hard shaft. Risley retracted Ifor’s foreskin.

“Think I can do that myself,” Ifor said.

“You know the creed, do a job, do it right,” Risley said as he touched the soft pink, worked the soap beneath the edge.

“Thank…” Ifor started.

Risley pulled back as the shaft tensed up and relaxed, the pumping along the shaft, and squirts of off–white shot downward. Beads of white floated away in the water beneath them.

“You just—” Risley started.

“Why’d you think I told you I could manage?” Ifor said, “You kept on going, and thank you—you just made this the most pleasant cold bath ever.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Risley said.

“No you’re not,” Ifor said, “Keep it up.”

“You enjoyed that,” Risley said.

“Yep,” Ifor replied.

“Here,” Risley said, handing the soap over, “Finish yourself up.”

Ifor stood as Risley moved back out of the water.

“You did it to me yesterday—deliberately!” Ifor said as he lathered up, cleaned off the dribble from his slit.

“You needed it!” Risley said.

Risley walked up the bank, the sky a bit dimmer, to the pot on the stove, near their backpacks, and a few dozen yards from their sleeping bags. Grant squatted as he stirred, sat on his heels, his balls dangled loose beneath his thighs with his soft penis on top. Their water–bottles were on the ground.

“Clean?” Grant asked.

“Better,” Risley said, “He gets off on us.”

“So?” Grant asked, “We protect his butt and he protects ours. More power to him to find it exciting, means he’ll watch our backs.”

“Yeah…but…” Risley started.

“He’s the same Ifor we knew in Portland,” Grant said, “Only now, we’ve got nothing to hide our insecurities behind, it’s all hanging out including the fact that I was circumcised, a bit of me was stolen, and your dick’s a reminder to me of that. But will I ask you to hide your dick? No, because that’s unfair to you. Ifor is Ifor, let him learn what it is to be Ifor, and accept it. Best advice I have, even if it’s difficult at times.”

“Talking about me?” Ifor asked as he returned, his penis soft and testicles so far retracted that they almost seemed missing beneath the wet pubic hair. He shook as he came close to the stove.

“You two talk about me when my back’s turned,” Grant said.

“He likes your butt,” Risley said.

“That too,” Grant replied as he stirred the stick in the modest pot.

“Supper ready?” Ifor asked.

“Almost,” Grant said.

“Good,” Ifor said as he walked away, returned dragging two small logs, dropped them to either side of the pot, “There.”

Risley sat on one, spread his legs, with the stove directly in front of him. A little bit of heat warmed up his penis, his scrotum, and they began to drop down onto the log.

“Now,” Grant said as he removed the modest pot. He jabbed the metal spoon in, handed it over to Ifor.

“Thanks,” Ifor said, “What about you?”

“That’s for all of us,” Grant said as he put the larger pot on, “One mess set, one set of utensils, so we have to share, because I thought the box would’ve been there to start.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Risley said as Grant sat next to him.

“One bite,” Ifor said as he scooped the thick stew like substance to his mouth, ate. “Not bad.”

Ifor passed it over to Risley. Risley took a scoop, brought it to his mouth, bit onto it and ate, before he realized this spoon was in Ifor’s mouth a moment earlier. Risley nearly gagged on the chicken before he managed to get the pot and spoon over to Grant.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Grant asked.

“No, it’s…” Risley started, before he thought better of it, “Good.”

“Liar,” Grant said as he took a scoop, “But I’ll take it.” Grant ate his scoop, passed it over to Ifor.

Ifor took a scoop ate before he handed the pot and spoon over to Risley.

“Really,” Ifor said, “It’s good…well, it is trek food, so there’s only so much you can do with it.”

“True,” Risley stated before he ate the scoop, handed it over to Grant.

“Interested in a little extra flavor?” Ifor asked.

Risley glanced to the fingers, Ifor’s that retracted his foreskin.

“It’s not that bad,” Grant said.

“Did we tell you about the pizza?” Risley asked.

“See what you’re missing out on,” Ifor said as the jet started. Hit hit the grass beneath him. “She liked it.”

Risley described it.

“One more scoop!” Grant said as he handed the pot over to Ifor, “Don’t refill it!”

Grant removed the larger boiling pot from the stove, set it aside.

“We’re not Ainsley,” Risley said as he described what Ainsley did.

“Disgusting!” Grant said.

“She loved it,” Ifor said as he handed the pot to Risley.

Risley cut the rest in half, scooped it up, swallowed it.

“Got news for you, not everybody wants to drink it,” Grant said.

“I know, you want it straight from the tap,” Ifor said, “Fresh.”

Risley studied it, the pinkness of the tip, the slit jetting out the yellow, over the bunched testicles.

“Hardly,” Grant said before he took the pot. “That’s it?”

“Unless you want something from Ifor,” Risley said.

“This’ll have to do,” Grant said, “We can’t exactly go on an eating spree.”

“I’ll fill you up,” Ifor said.

“No thank you,” Grant said, “Wanna wash the pots?”

“Already took my leak,” Ifor said.

“I’m being serious,” Grant said, “I’ll get the book.”

Grant got up, went the two steps to his backpack, while Ifor dipped the smaller pot and spoon into the water.

“It’s warm,” Ifor said as he straddled over it, let his balls touch the water, “Definitely warm.”

“Don’t—it’s supposed to stay clean,” Risley said.

“Alright, alright,” Ifor said, “Ifor soup will have to wait for another day.”

Risley laughed.

“So,” Grant said as he sat back down next to Risley, the handbook open, where it landed on a pair of pages with close ups of the intact penis with different levels of hair from none to much.

“What’s this?” Risley asked.

Grant flipped.

“It’s pub—puberty, apparently that’s what it’s called with these grow up,” Grant said, “Brave, these are all of the same person, starting at age nine, one year apart.”

“Similar to yours,” Risley said to Ifor, “Some boy had pictures of his dick taken every year for them to be published here.”

“That’s why I said it’s illegal,” Ifor said, “It’d be illegal even in the pastor’s healing companion.”

“It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’d find this awkward,” Grant said, “It’s called pubic hair—this.” Grant tugged on his wild strands.

“Looks good on you,” Ifor said as he set the pots and spoon out to dry.

“You like looking,” Risley said.

“Of course,” Ifor said, “Yours—excellent, don’t change a thing.”

“He’s winding you up again,” Grant said, “Still, he’s got a point.” Grant ran his fingers through strands of Risley’s pubic hair. “It’s nice.”

“According to this,” Ifor said, “Your balls likely started growing first, which makes your penis seem small until it grows. Fact that your foreskin doesn’t cover—it’s called the meatus, by the way.”

“I like my dick the way it is,” Risley said, aware both Ifor and Grant were staring at it.

“Lets see,” Grant said as he curled his fingers around Risley’s softness.

“You like it,” Ifor said.

Risley watched as his penis stiffened in Grant’s grip.

“He’s blushing,” Grant said.

“Yep,” Ifor said.

“You two!” Risley snapped, his hard erection jutted out.

“You’re letting it happen,” Ifor said.

“It’d be impolite to move,” Risley said.

Ifor laughed.

“Mind?” Grant said, touching the pink softness, “It’s more…not sure, feels better than mine.”

Ifor grabbed the handbook.

“It’s called the glans,” Ifor said, “Yeah, has a note that the foreskin is designed to protect, keeps it more sensitive as a result. Erections and ejaculations are still possible in circumcised individuals, however, the pleasure is clearly not on that side.”

Risley yawned, felt the fatigue catching up.

“Grant,” Ifor said, “Help me with the backpacks.”

Risley felt it catching fast, he stumbled over, slammed down onto the sleeping bag. A moment later, Grant and Ifor showed over him; both had hard erections jutting outward.

“It’s shared,” Grant said, “Move over and let us in.”

Risley rolled to his right side, slid back. Ifor climbed in, slid down, rolled to his left side, faced Risley.

“Sorry,” Ifor said as Risley felt the chisel point foreskin against his own glans.

Grant brought his butt down first, stretched his legs in, wedged himself between Risley and Ifor. Risley felt the arm push against his chest, another hard erection touch his own as it passed, before Risley’s stiffness rested in pubic hair. Hands held the three hard dicks together.

“What?” Risley asked.

“A promise,” Grant said, “We’ll get through this, we’ll have fun while doing so. One dick to another.”

Ifor whispered into Grant’s ear.

“What?” Risley asked.

“Are you in?” Grant asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Risley said.

Risley felt the fingers tease his foreskin, the hand rub his hard cock, nestled in Grant’s pubic hair, touching the the other two.

“We’re sealing the deal,” Ifor said.

Risley brought his hand over, collided with the others, felt the two other hard cocks. Foreskin helped Risley identify Ifor’s, but still he teased. Very aware his stiffness was being teased, Risley felt the urge build up fast. In a moment, Risley breathed deep, still leaning against Grant, as he felt the tension stop, the spasms went through him, as he released. A moment later, more sticky lava poured over his shaft and Grant relaxed. A third shot from the other cock directly opposite Risley’s, with a smile on Ifor’s face, Risley knew who was going. Hand rubbed Risley’s balls, drew the beads of semen into their pubic hair.

“Better?” Grant asked.

“It’s…” Risley fell to sleep.


	9. Play

Buzz filled Lovell’s ears as the blades whirled above, the Banfield freeway below clogged as a parking lot. Lovell peered out the side window of the helicopter for a moment, before he returned to the tablet.

“Thanks,” Spencer said to Malcolm, “Traffic, even with lights—”

“Glad to be of service,” Malcolm said, “How’s the boys.”

“Just got a letter,” Lovell said, “They won trivia night, Cody…he’d make them a shoe–in for that. Helped cover up for their cabin being a mess.”

“They’re enjoying themselves?” Malcolm asked.

“Yes,” Lovell said, “Nice to see somebody keeping wholesome and out of trouble.”

* * *

Wednesday, June 24th

Ifor shivered as he woke, felt the prickly leaves beneath him. Grant bundled up within the sleeping bag, while Risley was also outside of it. Risley snored as he was on his back, his soft penis laid sideways across the pubic hair, rose and lowered with the breaths. Ifor studied the slit for a moment, tucked on the dime of glans that didn’t quite fit beneath the foreskin. Ifor’s friend laid bare, their souls exposed and shared, and Ifor knew he cared.

Ifor stood, brushed the crud off his back, and walked over to the lone tree. Their backpacks suspended, Ifor untied the knot, lowered them back to the ground. Ifor grabbed the soap from Risley’s backpack, walked. Past the small cold stove and the two logs, Ifor went down the bank to the stream. Cold water flowed across his legs as he waded in. Soap, Ifor washed his penis, his face, before he rinsed them off.

“Don’t use all of it!”

Ifor turned, Grant was there. Ifor tossed the soap to Grant and waded back to shore. Grant walked past, entered the water.

“Here,” Risley said, coming down the bank with the collapsible fishing pole, “Make yourself useful while gawking at us.”

“Ris!” Ifor snapped.

“We turn you on, right?” Risley said, joining Grant in the water.

“It’s better than you turning me off!” Ifor said.

“Hardly,” Risley said.

“Look!” Ifor said, moving closer.

“What?” Risley asked as he lathered up Grant.

Ifor peed into the water.

“Wasn’t expecting that argument,” Risley said.

“What’d last night tell you?” Ifor said, “That we can turn you on—it’s a beautiful thing. Honestly, it is, because we’ve got ten weeks, you and him are all I’ve got.”

Grant laughed.

“What?” Risley asked.

“Wait before you…” Grant started.

Pfffpt!

Brown chucks dropped from between Grant’s buttocks.

“Fresh,” Ifor stated.

“You!” Risley snapped at Ifor.

“I think we have some oatmeal,” Ifor said, “I’ll get it started, likely faster than this.”

Ifor carried the fishing pole back up. He put a bit of kindling into the stove, lit a match, started burning the wood. After a moment, its flames became more. He poured water from the small collapsible plastic jug into the medium pot.

“Add a quart more,” said Grant, coming up.

“What for?” Ifor asked.

“Bit more,” Grant said, as he went for his backpack, “Reasons.”

Ifor added the water as Risley came up. Risley laid on the grass between the logs, left arm over the log, right knee up in the air, his left to the ground into the log with a foot bent back. Ifor glanced at Risley’s balls resting in their pouch, the penis dangled off along the pubic hair to lay across the upper thigh. Ifor sat down, next to Risley’s knees, between him and the stove.

“Cutting my heat,” Risley said, “You’re—”

“I’ll be down at the water refilling this jug,” Grant said, grabbing it, “I’ll take my time.”

Grant left.

“You want more,” Risley said.

“Friends,” Ifor said.

“More than that,” Risley said.

“Won’t lie,” Ifor said, “These…” his left fingers touched Risley’s scrotum, caressed the balls. “Remind me of your delicate side, that while you’re a friend, you’ve started to expose them, which we’ve been brainwashed to be offended by. Do I like them? Yes, but you’re more than these.”

“You certainly do like them,” Risley stated, glancing at Ifor’s hard dick.

“We’re enough of friends that I can calm you down with these,” Ifor said, “Don’t expect me to stop.”

Risley snorted.

“If needed, I’ll give you a daily orgasm,” Ifor said, “You know, reinforce matters.”

“In your dreams—water’s boiling,” Risley said.

Ifor tore four packets in, added the contents in.

“Calmer?” Ifor asked as his fingers ran along the growing flesh.

“Yes,” Risley replied.

“Remember, love your friends, especially their ugly sides,” Ifor said, “That’d be something Cody would agree on.”

“Not like this,” Risley said.

“No, not like this,” Ifor said.

“Ifor!” Grant said as he came up, “Four packets?”

“So,” Ifor said, “Thought that’s why you wanted the extra water.”

“Tea, I was going to make tea!” Grant said.

“Oh,” Ifor said.

“Ease up,” Risley said, as he teased his right nipple, “It’s just a couple—”

“NEWS FLASH!” Grant said, “We’re SHORT on food as it is! Four weeks is all we have IF we scrimp.”

“That bad?” Ifor asked.

“YES!” Grant said, “Obviously, you’ve already cooked this—may as well eat it, you’re going to need the strength later.”

“Sorry,” Ifor said.

Grant handed the pot to Ifor, along with the spoon.

“Enjoy, save me a portion,” Grant said, “I’ll go and check the map—see if there’s a spot and see if we remember our edible plants.”

“I never did good there,” Risley said.

“We’ll spot you,” Ifor said to Risley, “Here.” Ifor handed most of the pot over to Risley, who took a bite.

“Don’t neglect yourself,” Grant said.

“Suddenly not hungry,” Ifor said as he stood.

Ifor grabbed the fishing rod, carried it down the bank to the stream, sat on the edge with his feet on the water, cast it out. A small flotilla of baby ducklings floated past behind their mother beneath the blue sky.

“We screwed up,” Ifor admitted to himself.

“Did you think of bait?” Risley asked as he came down, pot and a small cup.

“We could’ve gone to that stupid camp, gone off for a week at a time,” Ifor said, “Nobody would’ve known.”

“It wouldn’t have been the same,” Risley said as he handed the cup and pot over to Ifor; took the rod.

Ifor sipped at the tea. Risley sat down cross legged next to Ifor.

“We’ve gone from to underwear to treating our nards as a shared toybox,” Risley said, “How do you think I feel?”

“Confused,” Ifor admitted.

“You can say that twelve times again,” Risley said, “Understand that and we can remain friends, which is what I want.”

“Done,” Ifor said, “I’ve not sorted myself out, but sharing it, sharing myself with you and Grant, I want to.”

“Serious?” Risley asked.

“Yep,” Ifor said, “I’ve seen the smiles my dick brings to you—that’s reward enough.”

“We really get along when Grant’s pissed,” Risley said.

“He means well and his head can get us out,” Ifor said, “How little food do we have?”

“I think he’s stretching it too much,” Risley said, “Likely less than four—I’ll give it two.”

“We’re going to need a lot of bait,” Ifor said, before he continued on the oatmeal.

“And better waters,” Risley said, “Maybe duck?”

“You know how to fix up a duck?” Ifor said, “Not to mention catching one.”

“We’ll learn,” Risley said.

“So, while we’re being hunted,” Ifor said, “You’re going to hunt others?”

“Lousy when you put it like that,” Risley said.

“We’ll figure it out, find worms for bait,” Ifor said, “As much of a pain Grant can be, at least he’s not Cody, not talking us into cutting up the sleeping bag for underwear, not talking us into going to that camp, or even quoting us the litany of bible verses because he’s got the damn thing memorized.”

“Yeah,” Risley said.

“Dunno about that,” Grant said as he came down the bank, the Penis Handbook in hand, “On the seventh day, the Lord told Adam…” he flipped the pages. “To suck my dick.”

Ifor laughed.

“Sounded like an invitation,” Risley said.

“While taking a leak,” Grant said.

“I’m not Ainsley,” Ifor said, “Pass.”

“Your loss,” Grant said, “Well, come on, it’s scripture time!”

Risley groaned, stood up.

“Come along,” Risley said to Ifor.

Ifor took Risley’s hand, stood up. They went back up the bank.

“So, what’s the chapter and verse?” Risley asked.

“Got an idea, “ Ifor said as he walked over to the warm water still in the pot, “Grant, you get to learn to wash foreskin.”

“What?” Grant said, “Was thinking the legend of Puberty.”

Ifor knelt down, put the pot in front of him.

“Interested?” Ifor asked.

“Sure,” Grant said, sitting cross–legged in front of Ifor.

“Mine doesn’t quite cover,” Risley said, on his knees next to Grant, “I don’t have the same issues as him.”

Grant grabbed Ifor’s soft penis.

* * *

A long while later, Ifor watched the red and white float bob down into the water. Ifor pulled, reeled the line in, the splashing came with the fish fighting for life. Ifor lifted it, a foot in length, carried it up the bank.

“See what I got!” Ifor exclaimed.

“Bit small,” Risley said, on his back.

“This is smaller,” Grant said as he fiddled with Risley’s soft penis.

“Not much,” Ifor said, “It’ll be a real dinner.”

Ifor turned the medium pot upside down. He went over to his backpack.

“Going to clean that, here?” Grant asked.

“Carry on,” Ifor said, “Dinner’s on me. What are you studying?”

“It’s called the prostate,” Grant said, “It’s what actually makes your…semen, well, part of it, but apparently there’s a trick to make for a much better orgasm.”

“I was… volunteered,” Risley said.

“I’d like to see this,” Ifor said as he began to slice the belly of the fish. Pink meat within started to show along with the guts, though he kept glancing at Risley.

“I need your—butt access,” Grant said to Risley, “Lift your legs up, all the way and spread em.”

Risley lifted his legs.

“Knees to the chest?” Ifor asked.

Risley brought his knees forward to about a foot from his nipples as he stared upward. Ifor paused the gutting of the fish to study Risley. Both of Risley’s testicles were parked nearly in the air between the thighs, the penis had a slight moment of stiffening but did not follow through, while a brown ring circled the dark hole of the anus.

“Admit it,” Grant said as his fingers hesitated near it, “Bit gross.”

“And I’m cleaning a fish!” Ifor said, “We’ve got soap.”

“I’ll need the whole—” Grant started.

“Umm…” Risley muttered, “Umm…”

Brown showed fast between Risley’s buttocks, fast sludge moved out, dropping after dropping, Risley defecated.

“I meant—” Risley pointed.

Ifor glanced up, the eyes of a big brown bear was a short distance away, focused on them.

“Don’t tell me I—” Risley started.

“Move.” Grant glanced about. “This way.”

Ifor dropped his knife as he backed up. Grant grabbed Risley’s arm, joined Ifor in a slow step backward. They walked a short distance away from their camp, kept their eyes upon the big bear and the two little ones near it.

“Our stuff….” Ifor muttered as the bears moved in, the little bear chomped at Ifor’s small fish, “My fish!”

“Wanna lodge a complaint?” Grant quipped.

Big bear sniffed at Risley’s fresh droppings, moved on.

“Female rejection—rough,” Ifor said. A quick glance, brown fecal matter clung between Risley’s buttocks.

“Will you—?” Risley started.

“Nice butt though,” Ifor said, glancing again at Risley’s soiled crack. Ifor’s flesh stiffened.

“Bears in our stuff and you’re hitting on me?” Risley retorted.

Big bear stood nearby while the other little climbed the tree, toward the limb with their hanging backpacks.

“Make noise,” Grant said.

“In case you failed to notice—I’m naked!” Risley said.

“And—” Grant looked “—nice butt, likely likes to get fed unless you also think she’s hot.”

Risley turned his head, glanced at Ifor’s hard cock with the foreskin still wrapped around the glans.

“Um…Ifor, she might not be your best prospect,” Risley said, “One swipe from her—”

“Or he does like your butt,” Grant said.

“HEY, NICE BUTT!” Risley shouted at the bears.

“NICE BUTT!” Grant said, stepping forward.

“NICE BUTT!” they all shouted.

Big Bear’s large eyes studied the pink human teenage boys approaching her. Ifor reached down, grabbed a stone, and threw it at the pot next to the stove.

CLANG!!!

“Oh, the dent…” Grant muttered.

Pot rattled as it tumbled, when Ifor grabbed another stone and threw it.

CLANG!

Little bear near the stove followed the big bear in a slow move backward. Little bear in the tree tumbled out, joined in the subtle retreat. All three bears kept their retreat until they were several hundred yards away, all three kept watching.

“Let’s regroup and move out,” Grant said.

“I wanted—” Risley started.

“What if she decides to sample your butt?” Grant said, “We’re naked and unarmed, in no condition to be taking bear hugs, so let’s be smart move.”

Ifor undid the knot, dropped their backpacks. Risley gathered the sleeping bag, cover, fast. Grant grabbed the fishing pole, the stove, and the mess gear; left the half eaten fish on the ground. Risley stowed the Penis Handbook into his backpack. Ifor grabbed his pocket knife and a nearby stick, whittled it as they left.

“That’s not going to do any good against a bear,” Grant said, “Especially three.”

Ifor glanced over his shoulder, the bears had returned to their campsite, the fish devoured, and the bears rolled on their backs, before headed down to the stream.

“Like we did there—bluff in the buff,” Ifor said, “Ris, next good chance, I’ll wipe your butt.”

“Huh?” Risley retorted.

“Never seen anybody—in panic,” Ifor said, his erection swayed as he walked, “Nice butt to do so.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Risley asked.

They continued.

Thursday, June 25th

“Ifor…Ifor.”

Ifor woke to scratchiness against his ear, took him a moment to realize where he was, on his left side, his shoulder against the butt and face on the balls of Risley; both on top of the open sleeping bag in the morning daylight filtered through the grove of alder trees around them.

“What?” Ifor asked, his own erection jutted out.

“Middle obviously wasn’t close enough,” Risley said, “Thought you were about to suck it in my sleep.”

“You’re awake so it’s not a problem,” Ifor said.

“Do and I take my morning leak,” Risley said.

Ifor turned, brought his chin to rest against the base of the balls, focused his eyes on the soft penis laying there. Ifor puckered his lips, blew air across it, and it began to stiffen.

“Need it to rain on you?” Risley asked, aimed his partially aroused penis at Ifor’s face.

Ifor leaned in, kissed the exposed glans. Risley’s stiffening continued.

“Need the oatmeal on there?” Grant asked, nearby.

“Playing around,” Risley said.

“It’s your adventure,” Grant shouted, “I’m not stopping you.”

Ifor moved, kissed each one of Risley’s testicles, and the erection became stiff.

“Now you’re being silly,” Risley said to Ifor.

Ifor glanced at Risley’s face, blushing with a bit of pink to the cheeks. Grant laughter filled Ifor’s ears. Ifor stuck his tongue out, licked across the round lumps, moved it along the underside of the hard shaft, over the foreskin, to the glans, onto to the slit when the ripe aftertaste bit into his tongue.

“Bleague!” Ifor said as he quickly moved back.

Risley laughed as Ifor bench pressed himself up and stood. Hard dick swayed as Ifor made for the stove and the water bottle with a bit of purple. Ifor brought it to his lips, chugged, swished.

“Swallow!” Grant said, “Last of the good stuff, don’t waste it!”

Risley laughed as Ifor swallowed. Risley patted Ifor’s shoulder.

“No hard feelings—” Risley said, “Wait, you gave them.”

Risley shook Ifor’s stiff cock. Ifor’s arms wrapped quickly from Risley’s backside, hugged.

“Good morning to you too,” Ifor said.

“Pancakes?” Risley asked.

“You’re right, not enough,” Grant said, “Still, we’ve got some powder.”

“Blueberries?” Ifor asked, blue lumps on them.

“That bush back there,” Grant said, “Eat up.”

Ifor grabbed the one from the pile in the modest pot, curled it, and ate. Heat and warm goodness went down into him. Risley ate his.

“Glad you’re happy,” Grant said, glancing at their hard erections jutting outward.

“Crappy Camp likely has syrup,” Risley said, “Still—better here than there.”

“Naked in the wilderness, best idea ever,” Ifor said as he spun around, a faint rush of the stream in the distance. Squirrels ran the limbs above them.

“What was that trick you were going to show me—before the bears?” Risley asked.

“Prostrate—not during breakfast,” Grant said.

“We’ll find it,” Ifor said, “Count on that.”

“I will,” Risley said.

Ifor sipped at the cup of tea, realized he felt more at ease, more comfortable, less exposed here than he ever did in Portland, despite his balls dangling loose for his friends to see.

“About ready?” Grant asked.

“I’ll get the bag,” Risley said as he walked back over.

Grant held the cup, the one with traces of batter, beneath him and aimed his penis. Yellow dropped out.

“Your secret ingredient?” Ifor asked.

“We’re out of water,” Grant said, “Get the worst off, wash later.”

“Mark it so I know which one to avoid,” Ifor said.

“I’ll stick it in your backpack for safe keeping,” Grant said as he rubbed his fingers in it.

Ifor went over to the sleeping area, Risley already had the bag stuffed into its sack. Ifor began to fold the ground cover, Risley took the other side. Both of their erections loitered, jutted out from their pubic hair.

“Sorry about this morning,” Ifor said, “Guess I—”

“Complaining?” Risley said, “You enjoyed it.”

“How did I get there?” Ifor asked.

“Don’t worry,” Risley said as he reached, held Ifor’s balls, “I know you didn’t mean it. When we get back, do you a favor, have Cody suck on you.”

“No!” Ifor spat.

Risley laughed as he shook Ifor’s testicles before he carried the sleeping over to the backpacks. Ifor brought the rolled up ground cover, stuffed it into his backpack. Grant, while squatting over a pile of brown droppings, wiped his sponge against his butt.

“Could’ve done that,” Ifor said.

“Washing it all at the next stream anyways,” Grant said, before he stood.

Ifor put his backpack onto his shoulders, knew they’d be company for months to come. Ifor swooped down, grabbed a partially carved stick, began to push his Wild Trekkers pocket knife along.

“Always cutting,” Risley said as they began to walk, his dick now soft.

“Can’t chance leaving it behind,” Ifor said, “That’d be tough to do if I’m always using it.”

“True,” Risley said as his penis began to drizzle as they walked.

“This way,” Grant said as he consulted the map.

“You like his butt,” Risley said to Ifor.

“He does?” Grant asked as he wagged his butt.

“It’s dirty,” Ifor said.

“Shall we check your wonderful butt?” Risley asked.

“Interested?” Ifor replied.

“You’re the one with a boner,” Grant said, “Obviously fine because we’ve seen it deliver its payload.”

“Just a moment,” Risley said, “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Grant asked.

“Unless you want to hear this all day,” Risley said, “Best to nip this in the bud.”

“Risley,” Ifor said, “I…”

Risley’s right hand gripped Ifor’s hard erection. Fingers to the foreskin and glans, Risley shook and stroked, fast.

“You’re…” Grant started.

Ifor felt the encouragement, his stiffness responded, felt the quivers and pressure, as he began to release.

“No hard feelings,” Risley stated as Ifor’s boyish magma squirted out. “And it delivered.”

“You just had to,” Ifor said, recovering his step, the off–white dribbled from his softening penis.

“Where’s that stream?” Risley said, “I need to wash my hands.”

“A couple of miles,” Grant said.

“Lets hurry,” Risley said.

They walked.

Friday, June 25th

Grant pulled out the silvered ground cloth, threw it on the rope between the trees, as the rain came down. Ifor sat with his butt on the damp ground, knees up..

“That’s it for shelter,” Grant said as he sat cross–legged next to Ifor, “On the plus side, if you’re wanting a shower, step outside.”

“More of that handbook,” Risley said, also butt on the ground, legs spread a bit, his penis and pubic hair visible between his propped legs.

“It’d get wet,” Grant said, “Even the map stays dry.”

“Thought it was waterproof,” Ifor said.

“You know how those things go,” Grant said, “All hype when it goes dead!”

Pfffpt!

“So, nothing to do?” Risley asked as he stretched his soft penis forward, let it drop before he grabbed it again.

Ifor heard the flutter, spotted the creature flying. He left the backpack behind as he stepped out of the shelter. Cold water hit his skin as he followed the flaps, the gray–brown small bird perched upon a branch above him.

“They do that,” Risley said, next to him, “Thought you were going to—”

“What?” Ifor asked.

“Try my prostate,” Risley said, “You seemed interested.”

“Disappointed that there’s more out here than just our dicks?” Ifor asked.

“Thought that was the point,” Risley said.

“We got drunk,” Ifor said as he glanced at the soft penis beneath Risley’s dark pubic hair, “You do look better with it out, so don’t get me wrong, and I appreciate playing with them. Here, experiencing rain as we were meant to.”

“We’ll get hypothermia,” Risley said.

“Not forever, but there’s no clothes to get wet,” Ifor said.

“True,” Risley replied.

“Know your birds?” Ifor asked.

“Think that was a thrush,” Risley said, “I don’t have that book. Only one we have concerns the bird—”

“Between the legs,” Ifor said, “That part’s obvious.”

“And playing with it means as much as we want it to mean,” Risley said, “I don’t want it to be none.”

“Deal,” Ifor said.

They shook each other’s dicks, both smiled.


	10. Sprain

“What do you mean—lost them? You’ve got a plane.”

“I was expecting them to head for Anchorage,” Irwin said, “But they’re not crossing the Lewis and Clark wilderness.”

“Then search!”

“We’ve got another live one in the field,” Irwin said, “Any customers?”

“I’ll let him know to gear up and come as quick as he can—I think he’s going for a spear, in the meanwhile—”

“Yeah, I’ll take a look, it’s big area,” Irwin said.

Thursday, July 1st

Risley slipped slightly as his feet waded on the stones as the river flowed by them. A brier of brush blocked their path.

“This way,” Ifor said as he turned.

A flick of the hand, Ifor’s slit bared, and he peed toward Risley’s feet.

“Hey!” Risley snapped.

“That’s…” Grant said, ahead, turned already.

Risley ran around Ifor, caught up with Grant. Fuzz to Grant’s face hinted at the beard to be, but the eyes were focused, and Risley took a look. A large boulder, the sun upon it, with a shoulder about the same height as theirs.

“Thinking—” Risley started.

“Yeah,” Grant said as he put his pack down next the rock.

Grant, with his bare muscles flexing as he scrambled up, foot on a nook, bare butt to moon Risley and Ifor with the freely dangling balls, Grant pulled himself up. Grant stood, spun around, the soft circumcised penis dangled beneath his wild pubic hair.

“It’s flat and warm,” Grant said.

Risley dropped his backpack, took a step back before he jumped with his hands on the ledge. He pushed himself upward, scrambled one leg over the edge before the other, and came to his hands and knees. Risley glanced between his legs, his own penis threatened to eclipse Ifor, laughed.

“What?” Ifor said, “Move your ass!”

Risley turned around as he stood, gripped his penis as Ifor stood below. Risley relaxed as he aimed, the yellow stream arched outward, missed the edge, hit the ground near Ifor. Ifor stood and watched.

“He’d call that a waste,” Grant said, “Should’ve poured him a cup.”

Risley snorted as his stream petered out. Risley knelt, held onto Ifor’s hands, and helped pull Ifor up onto the rock.

“You two and your games,” Grant said.

“Watch it,” Ifor said, flexed his hips as his penis stiffened.

“Seen it a thousand times,” Grant said.

“It’s fine,” Risley said.

Ifor sat first in the middle of the flat boulder top before he laid down, his hard cock sent a dark shadow onto his fluffy light brown pubic hair, his balls faced the sunshine.

“Couple of hours?” Ifor asked.

“I’d rather start taking it slow,” Grant said as he laid to Ifor’s right.

Risley laid to Ifor’s left, their thighs touched with a couple feet between them and the edge of the rock.

“Are we there yet?” Ifor asked.

Risley felt the heat of the sun on his skin.

“It’s fine,” Risley said, “We’re facing south.”

“Like we want to follow a straight line—not,” Grant said, “I’ve got a way on the map, some zig zag, maybe it’ll help throw them off our track.”

“Been weeks,” Ifor said.

Risley felt the hand, the fingers, as Ifor began to idly explore Risley’s soft penis. Fingers twirled several strands of his pubic hair, massaged as it pressed the appendage against it.

“No regrets,” Risley said, “Fish later? Definitely not now.”

Risley stared at the birds among the trees above, aware his penis was stiffening, the erection blossomed under the rubbing from Ifor’s fingers to the foreskin. Ifor moved to rubbing Risley’s testicles, pushed the heat inward. Risley felt the fatigue surface and he closed his eyes. A moment, three, Risley was uncertain, except that tits came to him, those round ones, the mole near the right nipple, against the whitewashed wall, and they were on the beach, his balls still soaked up the heat. A giggle and a laugh, Risley came back around as his hard erection quenched and released.

“Relaxed?” Grant asked as the first surge shot upward.

Around her in his dreams or around them here, Risley accepted it, as the orgasm pushed more and more semen out, it flowed over Ifor’s fingers to puddle in his pubic hair.

“Did you try my—” Risley started.

“Quiet!” Grant snapped.

“What?” Ifor asked.

“Engine—faint,” Grant said as he moved to crouch, “Except we’re sitting ducks.”

Grant stepped across both Ifor and Risley, jumped down.

“My hand,” Ifor said as he rolled over, his fingers glistened from their sheen of semen. Ifor his erection softened as he moved fast and jumped off the boulder.

Risley felt the rapid cooling from his slimy shrinking shaft and the semen wet patches on his abdomen. He moved, crouched as he came to the edge, hesitated before he jumped. Risley stumbled as he fell, pain shot through as his body rotated with his right foot planted to the ground. Risley tumbled onto the ground, fell onto his back with his legs in the air, and moaned as he gripped his right foot.

“Ow…ow…” Risley uttered, unable to silence himself.

“Are you—?” Ifor said.

“I’ll be…” Risley started.

“Can you put pressure on it?” Ifor asked as he knelt by Risley’s feet.

“Um…” Risley started.

Ifor pushed on Risley’s heel, again, the pain went through his foot, his ankle.

“Ow…ow…” Risley muttered.

Pfffpt!

“How could you—?” Grant started.

“Could’ve happened to any of us,” Ifor said, “Give it a moment.”

“Absolutely consistent,” Grant said, “We _do_ make you horny.”

Risley glanced at Ifor, still kneeling, though the eyes drifted downward; Ifor’s flesh stiffened back into a hard erection.

“A little,” Ifor said, “Though there’s stuff in your handbook I want to try with Ainsley when we get back.”

“What next?” Grant asked.

“Nice butt,” Ifor said as he patted Risley’s.

Risley laughed, before he howled.

“Anything sharp?” Ifor asked, his fingers now pushing on the ankle.

“Ow—ow—” Risley said, “It just fucking hurts—will you stop that!”

“Twisted, not broken,” Ifor said, “What’s in the first aid kit?”

“I’ll see if the reusable athletic tape made it,” Grant said, going to Risley’s backpack.

“Find it,” Ifor said, “Or similar.”

“Sorry about this,” Risley said.

“Not your fault,” Ifor said as his right hand covered Risley’s testicles, rubbed them.

Risley sighed as the tickling fought battle with his ankle.

“Found it,” Grant said, “You definitely like his balls.”

“Here, you keep it up,” Ifor said, “Unless you’ve got aspirin.”

Grant glanced between Ifor and Risley.

“Go ahead, do it,” Ifor said, “I’ve got to wrap his ankle.”

Ifor searched the nearby tree, broke off several branches, cut them down to size with his pocket knife. Grant brought both fingers, teased and tickled Risley’s testicles. Risley giggled.

“Confusing me,” Risley stated.

“Think that’s the point,” Grant said, he kept rubbing Riley’s soft balls parked between the soft penis and thighs.

“Give him a second orgasm,” Ifor said.

“What—?” Risley started as the pain flared.

“Sorry,” Ifor said as he strapped the tape around Risley’s ankle along with the branches, “Without aspirin, all we had was distraction.”

“I’ll find a spot for camp,” Grant said.

“We barely moved today,” Risley said.

“And your ankle’s injured,” Ifor said, “We’ll rest, give it a chance to heal. Split your load once you’re ready.”

“River, bound to be a spot for a fish or two,” Grant said.

“No bears,” Risley said.

“I’ll stay,” Ifor said to Grant.

Grant took his map, marked the current location, and left. Risley extend his legs a bit, put his left onto the ground, rested the right on his left knee.

“You’re horny, again,” Risley stated.

“Yep,” Ifor said, as he knelt from the side, “Very—lets see how painful that ankle is to use.”

Ifor lifted himself, his hard erection jutted over Risley, when the fingers went onto it. Ifor began to stroke.

“Here?” Risley asked, “I’m so going to get you back.”

“Welcome to try,” Ifor said, a moment later his stiff erection squirted, the off–white semen splattered onto Risley’s balls.

Risley laughed. “You’re dead.”

“Hopefully it’s not that serious,” Grant said as he returned.

“Ifor, he…” Risley said, “Never mind.”

“Gave you another squeeze?” Grant said, “This way.”

Grant grabbed his own and Risley’s backpack, lashed them together. Ifor put his own on, before they both lifted Risley to hop on his left foot.

“And before you suggest it, no, we’re not leaving you,” Ifor said to Risley, both now with soft dicks, “Come.”

“Here, your backpack,” Grant said.

“Carrying all three?” Ifor asked.

“Good thing Irwin lightened our loads,” Grant said, “Not saying it’ll be pretty.”

Ifor dropped his backpack, Grant lifted it by the front.

“Your idea?” Ifor asked.

“Him on your back,” Grant said, “Manage?”

Ifor turned, squatted, and Risley grabbed on. Risley felt the stickiness squeeze between them as Ifor stood up.

“You’re so going to love that,” Grant said to Ifor.

Ifor stumbled for a moment, carried Risley on his back. A half mile along the river was a clearing, they stopped. Ifor lowered himself to the ground, Risley tumbled back onto the hard grass.

“Best I could find that was forward, not back,” Grant said, “Guess a couple of days here.”

“Days?” Ifor said, “Last time—”

“Don’t bring the fish back to camp!” Risley said.

“What he said,” Grant said, “Find a spot to clean and gut and cook it, away from the rest of camp.”

“I heard!” Ifor snapped.

“Yeah,” Grant said, “Got bears around—remember that!”

“He heard,” Risley said.

Ifor grabbed the collapsible fishing pole, with its red and white float, its hook, and went down the river.

“What’s biting him?” Grant asked.

“You’re sounding like Cody,” Risley said.

“Didn’t he remember—” Grant started.

“He doesn’t like being told what to do,” Risley said, “Whether it’s a teacher, Cody, or you. You’re frustrated, which makes it sound even worse.”

…

Ifor jabbed the stick into the dirt, let the frustration out as he dug, spotted the worm, and moved fast. He pulled it out, attached it to the hook, before went down to the bank. He briefly thought about using the large log jutting part way over the water to his left, before he shook his head. Instead, Ifor cast out the line and sat on the slightly mucky shore.

Quack

A duck flew out of the water.

“Sorry,” Ifor said to the bird.

“Me too,” said Grant as he came down.

“Risley?” Ifor asked.

“Resting—already got the sleeping bag out for him,” Grant said.

“Not that bad, I hope,” Ifor said.

“You know how it is,” Grant said as he sat down next to Ifor, “Like we’ve got anything better to do. Saving up for your next shot at him?”

“That—that’s harmless fun,” Ifor said, his own dick stiffened as he glanced at Grant’s softness.

“Really?” Grant said, “You peeing toward him, him toward you, jerking each other off? It’s fun, but is it harmless?”

“You’re doing it again,” Ifor said.

“It’s me—pissed off,” Grant said.

“Join in the game,” Ifor said as he touched Grant’s penis, felt the tough glans, “It’s not like you asked to be circumcised. Here, a favor.”

“You’re getting off on it, aren’t you?” Grant asked glancing toward Ifor’s crotch, the one with the hard erection jutting upward above the two balls held tight.

“So?” Ifor said as he wrapped his right hand about the stiffening shaft, “Because if there’s one thing we’ve learned on this trip, is that playing with your dick is the fastest way to get you to relax, which you need to do.”

“Interesting justification,” Grant stated.

“Here, focus on the fish,” Ifor said as he handed the fishing pole over, “You are going to relax.”

Ifor’s left fingers teased the scrotum, chilled and hugging the large balls next to him. His right kept colliding with the scruffy brown pubic hair as it stroked along the shaft, the fingers teased the glans.

“You’re not letting up,” Grant said.

“Fish,” Ifor whispered.

Grant stared forward. A moment later, Ifor felt the pumping. Grant’s slit shot out the off–white, poured onto Ifor’s hand. Grant blushed.

“I asked—” Ifor said.

“Doesn’t change…” Grant muttered.

“More relaxed?” Ifor asked.

“Maybe,” Grant said, “You’re a fucking—”

“I love my friends!” Ifor said, “We come into the woods, naked, and you’re surprised I see how beautiful we all can be?”

“Not really, I suppose,” Grant said.

Ifor washed his hands in the water as he stood up, went up to the bank, where Risley was lightly snoring on top of the sleeping bag on the grass. Ifor grabbed the _Penis Handbook_ from the backpack, sat down. Ifor studied those soft, rounded, beauties saddled between Risley’s legs, before he thumbed to the entry he was searching for.

**Homosexual** is a person attracted to their own sex. In boys, this is referred to as being “gay.”

“Yep, that’s me,” Ifor muttered to himself.

A noise, a white rabbit hopped onto the sleeping bag next to Risley. Ifor dropped the book at Risley’s feet, grabbed his pointed stick, and began to follow. It hopped, made a beeline for a fallen log, went into the end. Ifor turned around, came back to Risley. Ifor glanced down at his friend, realized the truth as his first thought was that Risley needed a comb for that pubic hair. It was more to Ifor than friendship, but Ifor also knew what happened to people who acted upon it.

“Got one,” Grant shouted, “Where’d we clean it?”

“I don’t care,” Ifor said, “Got a comb?”

“Think so,” Grant said.

“Borrow my knife and I’ll borrow that,” Ifor said, tossing his folded knife at Grant.

Ifor searched Grant’s backpack, pulled out the comb.

“I don’t know how to gut it properly,” Grant said as he held up an eighteen inch fish.

Ifor, though, ran the comb through his own pubic hair first, scratched a bit on his hard cock.

“Of all the things—” Grant started as he stopped next to Ifor.

“We’re naked,” Ifor said as he squatted next to Risley, “It’s as important as anything else.” Ifor ran the comb through Risley’s dark brown above the soft penis, pulled out several knots, before he stood.

“I’ve got a fish and you’re—” Grant started.

Ifor ran the comb through Grant’s wild brown pubic hair.

“Well, guess it doesn’t help everybody’s,” Ifor said as he dropped the comb onto Grant’s backpack.

Ifor grabbed his pocket knife and the frying pan, walked with Grant.

“You’re worried about our hair,” Grant said, “I’m not.”

“Never know, a girl could be just as lost,” Ifor said, “Gotta be prepared, a Wild Trekker lesson.”

“We’re hundreds of miles from where we started and a hundred from the nearest trail,” Grant said, “Unlikely we’ll see any before we get to civilization, and we’ll be dressed by then!”

“We’re naked, we can get some time…. Um, tell them we got robbed and lost,” Ifor said, “Maybe that’s enough time for a girl?”

“Of course, you found another option,” Grant said.

They stopped at a fallen log, where Ifor put the pan down, bottom side up.

“Don’t advertise it,” Ifor said, “It’s not like I can hide my boner right now.”

“Have you told him?” Grant asked as he put the fish on the pan. Ifor’s penis softened, retracted.

“He doesn’t get it,” Ifor said as he sliced into the belly of the fish, pink, “Another salmon, supposed to be healthy for us too.”

“So this thing with Ainsley was for show?” Grant asked.

“No—I want to tangle with her too,” Ifor said, “That’s the part I don’t get.”

“Tried wrestling Risley yet?” Grant said, “You—”

“Dad made me,” Ifor said as he pulled the guts out, “We’re not supposed to be naked, but those singlets—little left to the imagination. Guess it helped make me ready for this.”

“Gross,” Grant said, “It always is.”

“I’d get hard during some matches,” Ifor said, “Not supposed to grab, but it’d happen and they’d make fun of it.”

“I won’t,” Grant said.

“We came here to find ourselves and I know I love you both, zits and all,” Ifor said, before he smirked, “Jesus went into the wilderness for forty days, we’re doing nearly twice that, suppose that counts?”

“Don’t pull a Cody,” Grant said.

“Lets cook,” Ifor said, holding the fish up, “Though I wonder how he’s holding up?”

* * *

Cody tapped on his tablet as he was sitting on the bench of the wooden picnic table outside the cabin beneath the canopy of the trees.

“Whatcha working on?” Gordon asked, leaning nearby in T–shirt and shorts.

“Risley always wears black jeans,” Cody said.

“And, if it’s picture day, I’ll wear them,” Gordon said, “From you’ve described, he’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Language!” Cody snapped.

“You need a break,” Gordon said, “We were lodged together.”

“Of course!” Cody said, “The real Ifor, Grant, and Risley are friends with me, only logical.”

“You can translate the Codex Vaticanus at seminary!” Gordon said, “We’re supposed to be friends—go out on a boat?”

“Arthur? Walter?” Cody asked.

“Waiting for us,” Gordon said.

Cody pushed his tablet aside, got up, and followed; red shirt and blue jeans.

“Shorts advised,” Gordon said.

Cody wondered what the real Risley was up to, though Cody also figured he probably shouldn’t know. Cody followed Gordon, made it to the grassy field in front of the dining hall, when Cody saw it. A man, in a dark suit, sunglasses, motioned. Cody approached.

“You have failed to make your reports in a timely fashion,” said the man, “Weeks overdue so I had to travel—”

“I’m sorry—busy,” Cody said, “I’m doing as was asked, ministering to my friends, to save them and their souls.”

“Best stick to that,” the man said, “It’s Alaska, plenty of ways to get lost.”

Cody walked right around an amphitheater as he went down to a dock floating on the lake. He went toward a rowboat, when a girl left Gordon.

“We’re not supposed to—” Cody started.

“Relax,” Gordon said, “She’s trying to find her friend, had a falling out and hasn’t seen her in a week.”

“Did she try a counselor?” Cody asked.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” Gordon said, “Come on.”

Gordon stepped into the rowboat. Cody did too, glanced at the dark man, an angel that waited for a moment before he vanished around the building.

“Anything wrong?” Gordon asked.

“No, nothing at all,” Cody lied.


	11. Meadow

“The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.” — Mark Twain

Wednesday, July 15th

Toes came down onto the bits of gravel sized rock mixed among the dirt, the trees a bit thin below the thicker ones above on the hill. A small pool before them, where a short water fall filled its entrance. Water gently moved through this pool, flowed out, back toward where they had come from. Their feet brought them to the shore, where Risley stuck his foot in and felt the water.

“Warm!” Risley said, his hair a bit longer than it had been four weeks earlier.

Risley moved his foot fast as the yellow from Ifor’s penis began to drop.

“Or at least not freezing,” Ifor said, “Where to next?”

Risley glanced at Grant, not the soft circumcised penis as that had long since become normal, instead focused on the lips surrounded by the stubble of the faint beard starting to form.

“A break,” Grant said, “We’re far enough—I need to study the map.”

“Swim?” Risley asked.

“Fish or two?” Ifor asked.

“I’m a bit hungry,” Risley said.

“Good,” Ifor said, handing Risley the collapsible fishing pole.

“But you—” Risley started.

“You’re great at the berries, time you got a bit of meat too,” Ifor said, “Go on.”

Risley took out the old oatmeal packet, opened it up, pulled out a worm, and put it onto the hook.

“Go ahead, cast it!” Ifor said.

Risley took his steps, waded into the water, felt the lukewarm on his skin as he moved in. He glanced, where Grant was already sitting on a log with the map resting against his pubic hair. Ifor was kneeling with his hard erection jutting outward, hands over the small metal pan, as the pocket knife began to split the small branch into tiny shavings.

“Quick,” Ifor said.

Risley focused on the tip of the fishing pole as brought his arm back, swung it forward, the lure was launched out into the water, ten feet ahead.

“We’ll have to teach you to cast better,” Ifor said.

Pfffpt!

“I heard that,” Grant said.

“Reminds you of my butt!” Risley said.

“Just as dirty!” Grant replied.

Risley shook his hips.

“Might want to try again!” Ifor suggested.

Risley reeled in the float and the lure. He took another step forward and his testicles began to float; his balls lifted his semiflaccid penis upward which immediately began to pee. Risley ignored his dick, instead, he twisted his torso as swung the fishing pole back, cast the lure twenty feet out.

“Better!” Ifor said.

…

“Hasn’t he figured you out?” Grant asked Ifor.

Ifor’s hands kept pushing his knife through the wood between his kneeling legs toward the small frying pan, however, his eyes were on Risley in the water. Risley had a noticeable beard starting to grow in, the nipples, and gold pouring out of the partially arroused penis.

“No,” Ifor said, “Keep it that way.”

“It never ceases to get old for you, does it?” Grant asked.

“No,” Ifor said, “It’s graceful.” Ifor glanced at Grant wagging the soft circumcised dick, smiled.

“When did I last take a leak?” Grant asked.

“Twenty minutes ago, about,” Ifor said, “I don’t have my phone to time you.”

“Was it twenty minutes ago?” Grant asked.

“You’re naked, not senile,” Ifor replied.

Ifor added more shavings to the pan, his wrists around the foreskin wrapped hard erection jutting out from beneath his thicker fluffy light brown pubic hair.

“For all its challenges,” Ifor said, “This was most definitely the better choice.”

Pfffpt!

“I can hear everything,” Grant said.

“Think I can do better,” Ifor said.

Ifor closed his eyes, focused for a moment.

Pfffpt! Pfffpt!

“Blew a chunk,” Grant said.

“Whatever,” Ifor shrugged.

“Didn’t drop,” Grant said.

Ifor didn’t worry about the advisory to not wipe his butt until he was in the water, the concern about a bit of residue had become normal, as it was rare for their butts to be perfectly clean since they started this trip.

“How long do think it’ll take him?” Ifor asked, changing the topic.

“An hour, more,” Grant said, “I mean, you wait for a fish to take the bait.”

“And that can take a while,” Ifor said, “Still, I can think of worse.”

“You want it to take a while,” Grant said.

“That book explained it,” Ifor said, “Some people are wired differently and out here, I can’t hide it. With you, Risley, I can share the secret, but at home…”

“Keep it hidden,” Grant said, “Because know who they call? Blake, the fireman, to come and hose your brains off the pavement after you’ve had…”

“An encounter with janitorial, I know,” Ifor said, “Even being a cop won’t protect me.”

“Do you want to go back?” Grant asked.

“No, not really,” Ifor said, “I mean, it’s nice out here.”

“It’s also summer,” Grant said, “So our birthday suits—we can get away with it now, but it is Alaska.”

“Can we get try Hawaii?” Ifor asked, “Anything where I can leave my dick hanging out?”

“It is nice,” Grant said as he lifted his soft penis, a short burst of yellow flew out, “I’d rather have you getting off on me than hiding it myself.”

“Agreed,” Ifor said, “Go naked when we get home.”

Grant snorted. Ifor put the stick down, the full pan aside.

“So, got anything from the map?” Ifor asked.

“An idea,” Grant said, “Tell you when Risley’s here—you know, so you both have a vote.”

“If you don’t mind,” Ifor said as his fingers gripped his erection.

Grant lifted his penis. “Better, or do you want my butt?”

“That’s fine,” Ifor said.

Ifor focused on Grant’s soft shaft, the edge of the glans, the slit, with its ridge beneath. Ifor stroked himself, fingers slipped along his own hard shaft, as he studied and stared. Roundness of the lumps to Grant’s balls, the wild pubic hair, lent to the sudden shift in becoming self–aware of his own. A glance from Grant, and Ifor knew him to be watching Ifor’s foreskin slip. A welcome bit of attention, added to the sense of arousal, before Ifor felt the pump and surge as his penis quenched and released. Off white shot out, poured onto the ground beneath him.

“You’re welcome,” Grant said.

Ifor sighed, relaxed.

“Glad to know it’s … not abnormal,” Ifor said.

“Could use Risley,” Grant said, “Go further.”

“That part’s clear…don’t unless you’re—?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Grant said.

“This—” Ifor said as he held up his hand with bits of off–white on his thumb and fingers, “Will have to do.”

“This isn’t—” Risley started, now dripping wet beneath the waist as he stood there, large fish on the hook in his hand.

“Trout,” Ifor said, “It’ll do.”

“Knife,” Grant said.

Ifor handed Grant the knife, before he grabbed the used bar of soap still in its nylon stocking and got two steps into the muck.

“Good idea,” Risley said, “Dirty butt!”

Ifor leaned forward, aimed his butt back toward Risley as the legs spread. Ifor glanced past his own softening and still oozing penis, to Risley, shook it when the pressure came.

Pfffpt!

Brown logs dropped onto the edge of the water, not far enough out to float.

“Healthy!” Grant shouted.

“Gross, but it’s pure you,” Risley said, “You’re full of it!”

Pfffpt!

Ifor stood and took more steps until his chest was submerged. He dunked himself, before he backed up until the water went back down to his knees. He ran the soap, lathered most of himself up, before bending over to splash water to his face.

“Your butt!” Grant shouted.

“Your show!” Ifor quipped as he spread his legs.

Ifor felt the slick and slime as he wiped, rinsed his fingers, before he lathered up. Ifor dug his finger in a bit further, felt it, rubbed, and his erection returned.

“Do it!” Risley exclaimed.

“He already did,” Grant said.

Ifor understood the irony, concerned about his sexuality, but they’re the ones watching him clean his butt! Still, Ifor rubbed as he cleaned, before he threw the soap back to the shore. Ifor walked further into the water, splashed to rinse himself off, before his toes pushed him upward. Stroke after stroke, Ifor crossed the water, turned onto his back and frog kicked his way back. A flip and he crawled back across, before he flipped around and crawled back. Foot onto the ground beneath the water, Ifor walked out of the lake.

“Enjoyed that?” Risley asked.

Both Grant and Risley were on the ground, next to the stove with the fish frying in it. Ifor came over, still standing, his dripping soft dick a foot in front of their faces.

“Watch it!” Grant said, yanking the map back away from the water from the drizzling chisel tip of Ifor’s foreskin.

“Anything good?” Ifor asked.

“We’re making good progress,” Risley said, showing the tall mountain to their south, “Hundreds of miles already.”

“About that,” Grant said, “Once we show up to civilization, we’re going to have some awkward questions inside a week or two if we keep up this pace. Got a better idea.”

Grant scrolled the map.

“This is where it gets better,” Risley said, “Better than your lovely…” Risley briefly gripped Ifor’s foreskin, shook the penis.

“See this blue marker?” Grant asked.

“Three or four miles,” Risley said.

“Yes,” Ifor said, now seeing it.

“It’s an abandoned ranger station top of the ridge with a lake a short bit away,” Grant said, “It’d make for an excellent base camp—do some short hikes from there for a while, similar to what we had originally intended.”

“So we settle in?” Ifor asked.

“For a week or so,” Grant said, “Move on, find another spot to camp, same thing. There’s some ghost towns between here and Fairbanks, check them out?”

Ifor squatted, flipped the fish.

“Any more of those huckleberries?” Ifor asked.

“We’ll need to pick more later,” Risley said as he held up a plastic pouch with a couple of handfuls.

Ifor held his soft penis, held his foreskin.

“No peeing on it!” Grant snapped.

“I’m not,” Ifor said he stood.

“He’s watching this one,” Risley said as his thumb rubbed the top of Ifor’s soft penis, the fingers reached around and rubbed the backside of Ifor’s scrotum, “Another chance, later?”

Ifor peed, Risley pushed the penis downward, and his jet hit the ground.

“Nice try,” Risley stated.

“You’re loving it,” Ifor said before Risley let go.

Ifor continued to pee as he took several steps back.

“How’s the fish?” Grant asked.

“Almost there,” Risley replied

* * *

After they finished, Ifor put his backpack on, watched as Risley put weight on his ankle, clearly better than two weeks earlier.

“This’ll be good,” Risley said as he followed Grant, “A roof over our heads and I don’t really want to go any faster.”

“Me neither,” Grant said.

“Nor me,” Ifor replied as he started the uphill climb behind Risley, “To think, I won’t be able to see Risley’s penis with his step.”

Risley snorted. Ifor knew what they all did, seeing their dicks had become ordinary.

“Why stop?” Grant said, “Sure, we’ll get home, onto our lives, but—certainly, weekends would be good for a trip.”

“Not the same,” Risley said.

“Swing by every day, drop any hideous pants they force you to wear,” Ifor said, “I’ll happily look at it.”

“We know!” Grant and Risley said in unison.

They caught the edge of the small ridge rising up to join the other one lined with pine trees.

Pfffpt!

Ifor caught the glimpse, of Risley’s buttocks suddenly clenching after a surge of brown, half a turd hung out.

“Anything interesting?” Risley asked.

“No!” Ifor said, knew the best response was to deny it.

Risley dragged his butt as he stepped across the log. Ifor moved a foot over, avoided the brown streak.

“Good exercise,” Grant said.

Ifor, though, frequently glanced at Risley’s butt, with its motion of the clenching while walking; and they made it up the hill, where it steepened.

“Thought this was supposed to be gentle,” Risley said.

“He’s straining,” Ifor said, keeping an eye on Risley’s stubby brown tail.

“Are you two—?” Grant asked.

“No,” Risley said.

Pfffpt!

Ifor gained a bit of speed, came to walk next to Risley.

“You’re—” Ifor started.

“Suck it!” Risley said.

“How much this time?” Grant asked.

“The usual,” Ifor said, glancing at the wrinkled brown sticking out of Risley’s bare butt.

“Not excited?” Risley asked after a quick glance downward on Ifor.

Ifor, though, clenched his own muscles as he felt his bladder begin to protest.

“Sorry,” Grant said, slowing a bit, “There’s always another way.”

“That’d take longer,” Risley said, “We’re almost there.”

Risley overtook Grant.

“That is…talented,” Grant said.

Risley scrambled up the rocks, held onto roots, until he pushed himself up, stomach over the edge, and stayed there.

“Better not!” Ifor said, glancing at the spread legs, the large turd jutting out..

“What?!” Risley asked.

“Please wait until we cross,” Grant said, scrambling up the rocks.

“You get a pass,” Risley said, “Not him.”

Ifor climbed next to Grant, scrambled to the side, pulled up on the roots, until he had his knees on the grass.

“Have fun!” Ifor said.

Risley, though, stood up on the lip. Trees to either side, grass in the middle, before the glanced at it. Not yet over the edge, but a corner threatened by erosion, a couple of beams hinged to the post.

“Um…” Ifor said.

“Seems a bit rustic,” Risley said as he approached the pile.

“Rustic?” Ifor stammered.

Scattered collection of floorboards, a collapsed chimney, and shingles of a broken roof. Risley walked onto the remains of the porch.

“Who!” Grant said, “As a landmark, it’s good, but think about stepping on a rusty nail.”

“Oh,” Risley said as he stepped back, “I…” He turned around.

“We even have a firepit!” Grant said as they entered a bit into the meadow.

Ifor stood near the pole, a rope running to the top with a pulley.

“Flag pole,” Ifor said, “Be useful for our packs.”

“Yep,” Grant said.

“Will you pay attention?” Risley asked Ifor.

Ifor glanced at the brown tail, still on Risley’s buttocks.

“Start a fire!” Risley said as he rushed for the rock lined firepit.

“Got—” Ifor started.

Risley, however, leaned forward, aimed his butt as the brown moved, dropped into the pit.

“You volunteered to light the fire,” Grant said to Risley.

“Hold still,” Ifor said as he came to stand behind Risley.

Ifor aimed his penis, peed directly at the brown anus.

“You’re—” Risley started.

“Power wash,” Ifor said as the yellow removed the brown, “Should be thanking me!”

“I’m not starting the fire,” Grant said, “And I’m waiting until that all dries and burns off before I get near it.”

“Maybe there’s another one?” Ifor asked.

Risley, though, glanced across the grass, dropped his backpack, and ran.

“What?” Grant asked.

“There’s a TRAIL MARKER!” Risley yelled.

“WHAT?!” Ifor replied loudly.

“TRAIL MARKER!”! Risley replied.

“I thought—” Ifor started before he focused on Risley’s balls swing with the gait as he slowly came back.

“YES!” Grant said, “I saw it on the map earlier, but if it were used—would this ranger station be abandoned? No, it’d be in good repair, either right there or very close by. It’s not been touched in a long time, which means, we have it to ourselves—you definitely like his front side.”

Ifor’s hard erection stood.

“Likely better that Cody went to that stupid camp,” Grant said, “He’d—could you imagine him with us?”

Ifor and Grant laughed as Risley came back.

“What?” Risley asked, moved his penis when Ifor spotted it.

“You just like—” Grant started to say to Ifor.

“Have the tweezers?” Ifor asked.

“His dick’s definitely not that small,” Grant said.

“I mean it,” Ifor said, unsure if the change in his demeanor was getting through.

Grant retrieved them from his backpack, handed them over. Ifor gripped them.

“Hold stlll,” Ifor said to Risley.

“What?” Risley asked as Ifor dropped to his knees in front of Risley.

Ifor’s left hand cradled Risley’s scrotum, his eyes focused on the dark spot on the skin against the shaft. Grant leaned over, eyes focused similar.

“Ewww—yeah,” Grant said.

“What?” Risley asked.

“You’ll feel the yank,” Ifor said, “Bear with it.”

Ifor used the back of his right hand to push Risley’s soft penis to the side, exposed the dark spot more clearly as it started to move. Ifor brought the tweezers in.

“It’s a tick,” Grant said.

“Get it off!” Risley shouted.

“Hold still!” Ifor instructed.

Ifor’s fingers squeezed, decisive, the tweezers pinched onto the dark tick, and he pulled it off. Ifor stood, held the tweezers before Risley. Risley glanced at the squirming black tick.

“Thanks,” Risley stated.

“Don’t hesitate to look at a mole—wherever it happens to be,” Ifor said, “Actually, I’m surprised we haven’t had more—though we have little to trap them against our skins.”

“I wonder why—” Risley started.

“Hey—” Grant started to reply.

“It’s okay,” Risley said as he gripped Ifor’s penis. Risley retracted Ifor’s foreskin, ran his finger over the glans. “No ticks.”

“You’re both enjoying it!” Grant said.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Risley said as he gave a fast and quick stroke to Ifor’s shaft, “Fee?”

“You want that tick back?” Ifor asked.

Risley let go.

“Any wood for the campfire?” Risley said.

“Over here,” Grant said as he lifted an old tarp nearby, with precut wood and kindling, “Let me know when the stench is gone.”

Ifor brought a few pieces over, immediately remembered, Risley’s dump within. He went to the other side, brought out a match, and struck it, brought it to life. Ifor choked for a moment, the smoke combined with the droppings, and his own erection dropped like a rock, his penis went soft.

“Sorry about the shit storm,” Risley said.

Ifor added more wood to the pit, stacked it around, covered the brown. Embers began to show as the light grew darker.

“Sorry for not mentioning the trail earlier,” Grant said, “It’ll be easier to cover ground and gives us a way out.”

“Out?” Risley asked.

“Meaning it’s tougher to get lost,” Grant said, “That’s all.”

“Options,” Ifor said, “Lets not think it.”

Risley stood with his front toward the fire, across the pit from Ifor and Grant sitting on their own butts. Ifor studied Risley’s nipples, the knees, and the creases of his boyish V that lead down to the thicker dark brown pubic hair. Ifor watched Risley’s testicles sink as the scrotum heated up, Risley’s penis stiffened until it was rock hard with the glans exposed. Ifor glanced at the shadows the hard erection flickered upward against Risley’s stomach.

“We’re happy,” Grant said, “Especially you Ifor.”

Ifor let his hard cock loiter between his legs.

“Simple things make you happy,” Ifor stated.

“Sometimes the simple things are the best things in life,” Risley said, “Cody was right in us needing some time together. Parents unwise to this, so I think this hike’s turning out quite good.”

Ifor and Grant gave some cheer, clinked together their water bottles.


	12. Missing

Thursday, July 16th

Turbulence shook the airplane.

“This is your captain speaking on behalf of Gospel Airlines, we’ve begun our descent into Anchorage with continuing service to Portland. Please stow all baggage, trays, and bring your seats to their full and upright position.”

“You did a fine job with the proposal,” said Norman, a black tie over his shirt, “Make sure you write up a brief note for when it comes time for your annual review.”

“After I get back to Portland,” said Alyce, in the aisle seat, “I do appreciate the favor of extending my layover by a couple days.”

“I think you nailed, so you deserve the short break,,” Norman said, “You’re more than qualified to become the project engineer, and you’ll have an internship for your son that’ll turn into a proper job when he finishes college. In the meanwhile…”

“I’m grateful they make the kids write letters home,” Alyce said, glancing at the printout in her hands, a fuzzy picture of the backsides of Cody and dark brown haired boy fishing from the shore of the lake. “You’d think they’d include some lessons on taking pictures, they’re either blurry or too dark or too bright or too small to make much out.”

“They’re having fun,” Norman said.

“I know, I can’t wait,” Alyce said.

Lights of airport’s runway broke through the darkness of the growing morning.

* * *

Sunshine poured down onto Cody’s golden brown hair as he left Biblical Linguistics, with an overloaded Beacon of the Light messenger bag hanging to his side. He grinned and waved at a pair of dark brown haired girls walked past him on the dirt path. Cody couldn’t tell if their smiles were because of his purple Beacon of the Light T–shirt or not. Instead, they merely watched as his blue jeans brushed against the ferns, trapped his foot, and he stumbled. Cody tried peeking under the long blue skirts that shrouded their legs, but they simply smiled again before they continued.

“Cody! Cody!”

Dark brown haired Gordon approached, fast, as he waved his tablet.

“I’ve got it done,” Gordon said as Cody regained his balance.

Cody grabbed the tablet.

“You got it, Risley’s definitely not writing home unless forced to,” Cody said, “However, remember, his Dad will read this—disabled veteran and all.” Cody moved the document on the tablet, skimmed the letter.

“Hi!” Gordon said to a couple of passing boys, both of whom nodded as they continued.

“Only one sibling, a sister Marcia,” Cody said, “They poke and prod each other, so make that a bit more tantalizing to get her jealous. And Gordon, your grammar’s excellent, his isn’t—so, lets keep this bit—” he circled a bit “—add in a misspelling that auto–correct won’t catch, and some—here, change well to good.” Cody scrolled a bit more. “End a few more sentences with prepositions, and don’t forget to split a couple of infinitives.”

“And here I thought this’d be easy!” Gordon snapped.

“It is,” Cody said, “You should hear my Dad, always complaining—even when he’s not supposed to. He’s a lawyer, you see. So, a couple of letters over the summer—small potatoes. How much did they pay you?”

“Not saying,” Gordon said, “What are you getting?”

“Not nearly enough,” Cody said, “I’ll take a final look before you hit send, alright?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Gordon said.

They arrived at the leather center, where Cody set his bag on a table before he walked over to the shelves. Cody brought his project box over to the table, sat. He weaved the leather thread through the edge of a large leather pouch. Gordon, meanwhile, worked on a quiver.

“Must admit, this is still cool,” Gordon said.

“Yep,” Cody said, “And no insane comments to the age of the Earth either.”

“Six thousand years,” Gordon said.

“Give or take,” Cody said.

A crackle above, from the speaker.

“Bit early for the next session,” Gordon quipped.

“Risley Gillespie, please come to the office,” came the announcement, “Risley Gillespie, please meet your party at the office.”

“That’s you,” Cody said to Gordon.

“I’m not expecting—” Gordon said.

“Risley Gillespie, please come to the office, immediately,” the announcement said.

Cody got up, grabbed Gordon by the arm and lifted.

“You’re nearly as stubborn as he is,” Cody said.

“Then I’m doing a good job?” Gordon asked.

“Lovely,” Cody said as they walked along the dirt trails.

Cody and Gordon walked past the dining hall, onto the wide round gravel turnaround at the end of the camp road. Across it from the loading dock for the kitchen was the log cabin of the main office. Parked behind the office was a blue sedan with _Evangelical Chariot Rentals_ painted on its side. While the screen door was shut, the solid door was open, and fans ran to keep a breeze flowing.

Cody glanced at the lady standing inside, one with a business white blouse and light blue slacks, next to one of the desks. Cody reached, but his hands were too slow, and Gordon entered the office.

…

Alyce stood next to the desk, in the log cabin of an office. A young man, Keaton, stood to the other side, with a purple Beacon of the Light staff T–shirt on him.

“He’s going to be in for a surprise,” Alyce said, “Turned out Gospel Airlines had a flight that connected through Anchorage, so I arranged for a layover.”

“Keep it to a couple of days,” Keaton said, “Otherwise it defeats the point of giving them time to grow into Christ by themselves.”

“My coworker told me about this terrific Hawaiian barbeque,” Alyce said, “They’ll love it.”

“Helga’s a good cook,” Keaton said, “Though—”

“You called for Risley?” asked the dark haired boy, Gordon, as he entered.

Alyce wondered for a moment if this were a new friend of Risley’s, the two conspiring to play a prank on her.

“So, where is he?” Alyce asked.

“But I’m—” Gordon started to protest.

“I assure you ma’am—” Keaton started, pictures on his tablet.

“Keaton, this—” Alyce started until she caught the glimpse of the familiar golden brown haired boy, “Cody Austin Vankleeck!”

Keaton caught her glare, out the door.

“Come on in boy,” said Keaton.

Cody rose, entered the office, stood next to Gordon. Springs on the screen door closed it.

“Now answer me,” Alyce said, “Where is Risley?”

“He’s…he went for a hike,” Cody said.

Keaton tapped on his tablet.

“There are no hikes scheduled for today,” Keaton said.

“Why are you even here?” Cody asked her.

“Don’t talk back!” Keaton said.

“I appreciate the help Keaton,” Alyce said, “Corporate agreed to a layover on my return flight—thought my son would be happy—”

“He would be,” Cody said.

“So, when did Risley leave on this hike?” Alyce asked, “Get Ifor—maybe he’ll give my straighter answers.”

“Also on the hike,” Cody said, “Don’t bother with Grant either.”

“I’ve got the full attendance list,” Keaton said as he tapped at his tablet, “I take it you’re all on the scholarship from Portland.”

“Yes,” Alyce said.

“Risley, Ifor, Grant, and Cody here, all checked in weeks ago,” Keaton said, “They’ve clearly been exploring all the activities—we encourage that. I see some archery, bible study..even a bit of choir on Risley’s part—”

“Did Risley even show up?” Alyce asked Cody.

“Um…” Cody stuttered.

Gordon inched toward the door.

“Stay put!” Keaton barked at Gordon.

“My son?” Alyce asked.

“Are we talking about these?” Keaton asked as he displayed the tablet with four pictures, including Cody and Gordon.

“Only him—” Alyce pointed at Cody, “As to the rest—here’s a real picture.” She put her purse on the desk. Cody recognized the picture she removed from her wallet, of Cody and them at their Golden Claw ceremony in their green and silver Wild Trekker uniforms. She handed it over.

“Definitely not,” Keaton said, “I assure you, I want the same answers. VALERIJA!!!!”

A stocky black haired woman, Valerija, walked out of the door to the right, from her small director’s office.

“This lady—” Keaton started.

“My son is supposed to be at this camp for the summer,” Alyce said.

Again, Gordon inched toward the door.

“Hold it Mister!” Keaton barked at Gordon, who stopped.

“Did you—?” Valerija started.

“Only, this isn’t her son, but it’s supposed to be,” Keaton said, “I pulled up the photographs from their original applications.” Keaton handed her the tablet. “And he—” Keaton pointed at Cody, “Claims they’ve gone hiking.”

“And who are you?” Valerija asked Gordon.

“Um…” Gordon started.

“Gig’s up,” Cody said to Gordon, “Check and mate.”

“Wasillia?” Valerija said, “That’s where I’ve seen you before. Gordon Milton.” She turned to Alyce. “You’ve got my ear. Keaton, contact Captain Shrader.”

“And you’re positive they made it up here?” Keaton asked as he tapped on the tablet.

“I drove three including Cody and Risley to the airport—in Portland—myself, their boarding even made five seconds on the news,” Alyce said, “Cody, where did they—”

“They said they wanted to go for a hike,” Cody stated, “And so they did.”

“All campers, all counselors, are to report by the flag pole,” Valerija said into a microphone, which they heard echo outside, “I repeat, all campers and all counselors are to report immediately. All other activities are suspended until further notice.”

Before Valerija finished her announcement, pulsing red and blue lights filled the office as a black and white old style police car pulled up in front. Routine backfire, the lights remained spinning, and the car stayed running, as the officer stepped out. Dressed in brown with a wide brimmed hat, the man entered the office.

“Good thing I was nearly here when you summoned me,” Captain Shrader said, “Your Helga makes a better grilled cheese than even my wife. So, what’s the situation?”

“I have at least three missing campers and three interlopers,” Valerija said, “Her son’s unaccounted for—” she pointed at Alyce. “I’m about to conduct a full and thorough head count. Assistance would be appreciated, even if it’s just to keep the kids in line. And those two—” she pointed at Gordon and Cody “—need to be questioned.”

“Of course,” Captain Shrader pressed the button of the microphone on his shoulder. “10-87, at least three. All available should report.”

“My son—” Alyce started.

“At least one wanders off every summer,” Valerija said, “We find them. Please, excuse me.” She left the office.

“And don’t worry about panicking us,” Captain Shrader said to Alyce, “I’m Captain Elliot Shrader, the Sheriff. We consider this a little training exercise—about the most exciting thing that ever happens in my department.”

“Normally we don’t have somebody claiming to being another,” Keaton said.

“Ups the challenge,” Captain Shrader said as he picked up two pads of paper. He turned to the two boys. “Now, sons, we need to know the truth.”

“They went for a hike,” Cody said.

“Write down everything you know about it,” Captain Shrader said as he handed Cody a pad and a pen. He escorted Cody to an empty desk.

“Gordon—likewise,” Keaton said.

“Can I play sheriff?” Captain Shrader asked Keaton.

“Sorry,” Keaton said.

“Can you keep an eye on them?” Captain Shrader said, “They’re not to speak between them.”

“Of course,” Keaton said.

“Stay put,” Captain Shrader said to Cody and Gordon, “Else I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Um…” Alyce muttered.

Squeaky squealing brakes announced the arrival of another police car, rust dulled out a bit of the painted police badge of Landcastle, Alaska.

“Come Ma’am, let them run their camp,” Captain Shrader said, “Chance to stretch your legs—long flight was it?”

Alyce followed him outside, as the two officers got out of the car.

“What’s up Chief?” asked the one with a name badge of Wilber.

“Interesting twist this year,” Captain Shrader said, “After those two boys are writing their statements. 10-15.”

“10-4,” Wilber said.

“Send the rest our way,” Captain Shrader said, “Otham’s already here.”

Alyce and Captain Shrader walked across the gravel as more crunching and growling. Belching a thick exhaust with a bluish haze and a loud rattle, one police car led another down the service road toward them.

Captain Shrader pushed on his microphone before he spoke. “Contact Harler and McKay—tell them we need their services.”

“10-4,” came the reply, “Oh, the chart says you came the closest.”

“Yes!” Captain Shrader exclaimed.

“What?” Alyce asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Captain Shrader said.

They rounded the dining hall, to a field in front of the flag pole swarming with over a thousand teenagers, all gathering.

“It’s an annual thing, we do it enough so there’s nothing to worry about,” Captain Shrader said, “First, we take a head count, a real, manual head count.”

“But my son—” Alyce started.

“These woods stretch for many, many miles,” Captain Shrader said, “Our best tool is information. Whether it’s one, two, or a dozen, we now have to account for every camper and counselor.”

Captain Shrader walked fast and determined, toward Valerija in front of the large flag pole, the only thing obstructing the view from the dining hall to the large lake.

Alyce followed, her dress shoes sunk in, slowed her down. As she approached the flag pole, the ground gave way on the other side to an amphitheater whose stage ended two feet above the shore. Slightly beyond were swimming docks. She turned back.

Campers gathered in the middle of the field, boys to the right, girls to her left, all with jeans or pants. Counselors, marked by their T–shirts, stood in a large circle around the campers. Captain Shrader stood next to Valerija. Deputies carried over folding chairs, tables. Keaton followed the cops with a small stack of tablets. Mutterings filled the air until Valerija brought the megaphone to her lips.

“We are conducting a full roll call,” Valerija announced, “We need this to be completely accurate. If you know of anybody who is not currently in this field, please inform the officer of that person and where we may find them. No other activities can continue until I am confident that each camper and counselor has been counted. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said.

“Please stay within sight,” Valerija said to Alyce.

“I’ll be right here,” Alyce said.

“If you’ll excuse me—” Valerija said.

“Sure,” Alyce replied.

Alyce sat on the top bench in the amphitheater with its view of the calm water of the lake, large enough to make most problems seem little in comparison, however, hers was big. She’d occasionally glanced over her shoulder, at the teenagers filing one at a time past the tables where deputies verified and checked names off.

…

An hour later, moccasins first came to Alyce’s view before the voice.

“Thought you might be hungry,” Keaton said, as he knelt next to her while holding a tray of cheese sandwiches.

She studied him for a moment. A young man only several years older than her son, about twenty her junior. She grabbed and nibbled at one of the grilled cheese sandwiches, her stomach still felt hollow.

“That is kind of you,” Alyce said, “Thank you.”

“Landcastle isn’t exactly the home of any crime syndicates,” Keaton said as he put the tray down onto the bench, before he stood back up, “Captain Shrader’s a regular—I think he and Helga—but that’s none of my business.”

Alyce set the sandwich on the tray before the white caught her eye. White elastic band held up the thin fabric of the underwear, the darkness of pubic hair beneath before cut off by the blue jeans that were a bit low.

“You need a belt,” Alyce said.

Keaton pulled up his jeans by the belt loops, where the waist of them slid beneath his purple staff T–shirt.

“It broke, been working on one at the leather center in my spare time,” Keaton said, “We’re about halfway—three doppelgangers for your son and his friends have been uncovered. Cody and the others have been removed to Landcastle for interrogation by the Sheriff. And have no doubts, I’m praying that we find your son, unharmed.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said, “Which way would he have likely gone?”

“That depends,” Keaton said, “Some kids will occasionally make the ten miles into town, only to find the stores are generally closed at night. Some might decide to get frisky with a girl—we discourage that, but unless injured—”

“Risley wouldn’t do that,” Alyce said.

“You’d be surprised how many couples met here,” Keaton said, “We do arrange for some mixers along with a good dose of adult supervision. Occasionally, some campers need to commune with God by themselves—but this long would be unusual. Rarely, they just decide to wander—those are the toughest.”

“I appreciate the talk,” Alyce said, “Beijing to Anchorage, an eight hour flight. Should be grateful for Gospel Airlines having it direct—all others wanted a twelve hour layover in Seattle. A full day—flying!”

“Well if you’ll excuse me, I need to check to see if they’ve persuaded the mice to leave any of the guest cabins,” Keaton said. He left.

Alyce knew she should eat, those sandwiches were inviting after having turned down the airline’s pale offering. However, she couldn’t stomach it. This was supposed to be a relaxing finish to a successful business trip, hopefully having persuaded corporate to invest in Oregon. She’d get a promotion and a tiny raise which she’d trade in a heartbeat to get her son back.

…

“How are you holding up?” asked Valerija an hour later.

“Business casual’s not the best for a camp, is it?” Alyce asked.

“No ma’am,” Valerija said, “I’ll see if we can get you a thing or two.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said.

Valerija took her megaphone, stood in near the flag pole.

“Thank you for your cooperation!” Valerija shouted, “A handout will be distributed, and you may return to your activities.”

Cheers mixed in with a loud chopping noise. Alyce glanced over her shoulder, Keaton was heading her way, wondered if her cabin would be ready for a change. However, the chopping noise grew louder, and she turned her attention back to the lake.

A new set of waves began to topple the geese as the whirling blades appeared, followed by the green helicopter of the Alaska State Police. Floats of its landing struts kept it upright as it landed on the water next to the docks; several rowboats rocked back and forth. It’s door opened, and out stepped a man. In the black uniform and livery of the Portland Police Department, Sgt. Lovell Ulverston braced himself.

Carrying a disposable plastic mug in his right hand, a duffel bag in his left, Lovell took the long step, and his left foot spanned the couple of feet of water to reach the sunburned wooden dock. His right foot followed and his eyes scanning as he walked up the dock to side of the amphitheater. A short step to the gravel before the stage, jumped from bench to bench until he was up in front of Alyce, gun holstered to his hip, and he handed the mug over.

“Cappuccino?” Lovell asked.

“Why are you—?” Alyce started to ask as she took the cup.

“Captain Sefton likely figured she’d have to lock me up otherwise when we got the news, so she gave me her blessing instead, temporarily reassigned me here,” Lovell said, “Glad I always carry a go–bag.”

“Anything new?” Alyce asked.

“I see that Mr. Ulverston has beat the news of his arrival,” Keaton said, “As suspected, Ifor and Grant are among the missing—which stands at seven.”

“Seven?” Lovell asked, “I need to check in.”

“And your cabin’s ready, Ma’am,” Keaton said, “I presume you’ve got some luggage.”

They walked across the field, to the blue rental car parked behind the office. Alyce opened the trunk and Keaton lifted her suitcase. Alyce followed Keaton along the short trail to a couple of cabins, painted in tones of purple and green.

“Unlike the campers’ these each have a private shower,” Keaton said, opening the first one.

Alyce entered, a change of clothes on the bed with green and purple covers.

“I will be in the main office when you’re ready,” Keaton said before he went out the door.

Alyce put the warm cup down. Her fingers trembled a bit as she worked her button, zipper, to her slacks, pulled them off. Her fingers and her arms shook as she tried to reach behind her.

“Hey I nearly forgot to tell you—” Keaton said as he entered fast through the door to the cabin. “Oh….” He turned around, blushed. “I’m sorry—” he reached for the door. “Need help?”

“Um,” Alyce said, more eager to change than her hands would permit, “That’d be fine.”

“I’ll try to avoid…” Keaton promised as the snaps to the back of her blouse were undone. “My girlfriend has trouble too.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said, held the garment against her chest.

Keaton turned, reached for the door, when she spoke.

“What were you going to say?” Alyce asked.

“Trading post had a run on towels, so it’ll take a bit to rummage up a clean one for you to use,” Keaton said, “Seems minor now. Tomorrow, I’ll find somebody to show you around the camp, though I doubt woodcarving would put you at ease.”

“You know what would,” Alyce said.

“I need to get back.” Keaton left.

Alyce sat on the bed, brought the blouse to her face, let the tears come out and flow into the cloth.

* * *

Lovell entered the office, approached the man in the wide brimmed hat.

“Checking in,” Lovell said.

“I see Ifor in you,” Captain Shrader said as he held a picture printout.

“Thank you Sir, he’s my son,” Lovell said.

“No need for formalities,” Captain Shrader said, “Brought you in as a professional courtesy, because I’d be just as anxious were I in your shoes. And this case is disturbingly worse than usual. Seven—seven unaccounted for, a record as far as I can remember, with four conspirators which is most definitely new.”

“Cody Vankleeck?” Lovell asked.

“Involved,” said Captain Shrader, “I’m taking them in for questioning. Apart from Cody, the rest have outstanding arrest warrants so I can lock them up immediately.”

“Good,” Lovell said, “Can I help in the questioning?”

“Reviewing it, yes,” Captain Shrader said, “You’re too involved, no offense. I promise to look for your sons of Portland—you can count on that!”

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” Lovell said, “They wouldn’t just walk away.”


	13. Search

**69 USC § 2342:** Any male sharing the same bedding for the purposes of sleeping shall be automatically liable to one count of sodomy and an additional two years in prison or other appropriate remedial sanctions.

“Lets go over this one more time,” Captain Shrader said, in a small room.

Lovell watched through the one–way glass as the Captain went over the paper on a table that was well worn.

“I told you, again,” Cody said, “They went for a hike.”

“Your friends?” Captain Shrader asked.

“Ifor Ulverston, Risley Gillespie, and Grant Barnet,” Cody said, “They planned it out, to skip camp and go for a hike.”

Lovell opened the door with a loud squeak.

“Who’s hiding behind there?” Cody asked.

“Never mind that,” said Captain Shrader.

Lovell went into the crowded office.

“Mind?” Lovell asked Wilber.

“Go ahead,” Wilber said.

Lovell grabbed the tablet, brought his phone near it when the phone flashed.

Device is incompatible with current security protocols, please contact the help desk for an updated device as soon as possible.

“Can we get security footage from the airport?” Lovell asked.

“There is no sharing agreement in place,” Wilber said.

“Fly me down?” Lovell asked.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Wilber said, “You city folks might have this thing called a budget, which we don’t have. Sheriff might drive you down there and back, but that’d take all day.”

Lovell walked through the maze, came to the coffee pot. He put in coin into the box, which sounded otherwise empty. He poured the lukewarm pot into a small styrofoam cup, drank it in nearly one gulp.

“Go back to the camp?” Lovell asked.

“Once the Sheriff is done talking to the prisoner,” Wilber said.

“He’s not been arrested, has he?” Lovell asked.

“Is he being cooperative?” Wilber asked.

“He thinks he is,” Lovell said, “That much, I do know. But my son…he’s lost, afraid, wants to come home.”

Friday, July 17th

Risley woke on his side on the open sleeping bag, the hand on the arm beneath his right side held his balls close. A welcome touch, a reminder of the friend against his back. Fingers moved, felt Risley’s hard erection at the same time Risley heard the snores stop; the fingers curled themselves around the hard shaft, the thumb encouraged the foreskin to retract as it rubbed against Risley’s glans.

“Come on you sleepy heads,” Grant said, standing nearby.

“What’s the rush?” Ifor asked.

“Yeah,” Risley said as he felt Ifor’s fingers explore the pubic hair, “What rush?”

“Some waterfalls a few miles away,” Grant said, “If not that, then some fish for food?”

“Not urgent,” Risley said as the fingers returned to his balls.

“Not pissing the bag,” Ifor said as he pulled his arm back underneath Risley.

“Oh,” Risley muttered.

“You owe him,” Grant said to Ifor.

Risley turned onto his back. Ifor loomed above with the ridge of his hard erection almost above Risley. Risley quickly moved, got up.

“Wasn’t planning on that,” Ifor said.

“I vote for food,” Risley said as he grabbed the fishing pole, the packet of worms. His dick softened as he started across the damp grass of the meadow.

Ifor walked next to Risley, the hard erection began to piss as they walked. Grant followed across the meadow, carried the shrinking bar of soap in the nylon stocking.

“Food it is,” Grant said, “I’d like to see—”

“Later?” Risley asked as Grant caught up.

“Yeah,” Grant said.

“Nice,” Risley said, “And our folks won’t know a thing!”

They laughed.

* * *

Alyce’s fingers rested on the holes of the light wooden recorder as she sat on the bench outside the main office.

“Here, you gotta blow—” said the fourteen year old dark skinned boy standing in front of her, holding a darker recorder to his lips, as he demonstrated, “Like this.”

He blew and the mellow note sounded out.

“So you—” he said.

“Nice try Synn,” Alyce said, “I..maybe some other time.”

Rattling came before the Landcastle patrol car emerged from the trees surrounding the road as it pulled up, a rattle that Alyce was confident her husband could pinpoint the cause for. Lovell and Captain Shrader were in the front, while Cody was in the back.

“Can you believe I actually thought him cool?” Synn said. He ran off.

Captain Shrader adjusted his wide brimmed hat first before he opened up the back door; Cody got out.

“Head inside,” the Captain instructed.

Cody, still in his purple camp T–shirt from the day before, glanced at Alyce before he went inside. The screen door shut. Lovell adjusted the microphone on the lapel of his black police uniform.

“Cody Austin Vankleeck,” Valerija scolded, “There are sufficient grounds to expel you now. However, I understand that you’ve been cooperative, at least from your point of view. Therefore, consider yourself warned and cautioned to be on probation until further notice. I’ll give you a chance to clean up and change. After that, you are to tend to Mrs. Gillespie.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Cody said.

Cody had a glare to his face as he left the office, his eyes avoided Alyce. More crunch of gravel as large SUVs pulled up, emblazoned with Alaska Canine Friend Finder. Each one had a dog riding with their heads out the passenger window, catching the breeze.

“It’s a bit soon,” Lovell said.

“I promised to leave no stone unturned,” Captain Shrader said, “And they have the finest noses for leads in the state, if you ask me. They’ll find them.”

“Will it help?” Alyce asked, sensing a bit of a turf war starting to brew.

“I can’t promise anything except to search and not give up,” the Captain said, “I can say that we’ve generally had good luck, alive or dead.”

Alyce broke out into tears as she cried into her handkerchief.

“They could be badly injured,” Alyce said through her sobs.

“It’s Alaska, unfortunately,” Captain Shrader said, “Last solid evidence was them leaving the secure area of the airport—a month ago. Alaska is unforgiving, so it’s either up or down. Your Cody has stuck to his theory about them opting for a hike instead, however, there is no record of any flight, big or small, that would correspond to the appropriate time with their intended plans. Oh, and you wouldn’t happen to have something with you that would carry their scent?”

“No,” Alyce said.

“I’ll talk to Portland about that,” Lovell said.

Two dogs wagged their tails as they came out of two of the vehicles.

“Those are cadaver dogs!” Lovell snapped.

“And I have seven missing campers,” Captain Shrader said, “I sincerely hope my hunch is wrong, but the sooner we find any good leads, the better our odds. I’ll be inside for a bit.”

Cody returned, now wearing his red T–shirt. He came direct to Lovell and Alyce.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Cody said, “I’ve prayed for forgiveness and that they’ll be alright.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said, “Do you understand the jeopardy you placed your friends in?”

“Yeah,” Cody said, “Honestly, I tried talking them out of it!”

“Then say something to somebody else,” Lovell said, “I don’t understand, they’ve been eager to attend—”

“Not as much as you think they did,” Cody said, “I think they stayed to the spirit of it though.”

“Can we do something?” Alyce asked.

“Suppose I could show you around,” Cody said.

Cody led the way, past the dining hall, and a left, into the tall trees along a wide dirt trail that periodically had long wisps of thin lumber crossing it as steps up the slope.

“It seemed reasonable at the time,” Cody said.

“Next time,” Lovell said, “Think about it reasonably.”

“You’re asking a sixteen year old to think reasonably,” Alyce said to Lovell.

“Unfortunately our boys are tied up in this,” Lovell said.

“How big is this camp?” Alyce asked.

“Dunno,” Cody said, “This takes a good ten minutes from the dining hall to the crafts. Our cabin and campsite are off to the left of this trail.”

“You and those…doppelgangers?” Alyce asked.

“Yes,” Cody said as they came to the service road. They turned right.

“I don’t understand why they’d want to miss out on this,” Alyce said as she glanced around at the green bushes lining the road.

“Shared showers for the camp, on the right for the boys,” Cody said, “Left for the girls.”

The road curved to the left, where Cody made a deliberate turn to the right, below a bank of a hill, to where a lean–to was near a bigger building.

“This is the crafts center,” Cody said, as he pointed to a pile of loose and oddly shaped leather. “Suppose you could stitch something together to pass the time. I’ve been making a leather cover for my King James.”

A shriek and a scream. Lovell bolted in a run, through the ferns, his hand kept a firm grip on his holstered gun attached to his belt. Cody and Alyce followed, a few paces behind on this new shortcut. Lovell headed straight for a cabin where a dark skinned teenage boy was trembling.

“The eyes—the eyes—” the boy said, pointing underneath.

Alyce caught a glimpse of fingers, idle beneath. Torn between the dread and the need to know, she crouched.

“Hugo…?” Cody asked, though he also squatted.

Lovell got onto his hands and knees, shone his flashlight beneath. Reflection of a dead pair of blue eyes, a collapsed floor beam across the neck, Alyce felt her heart begin to thump, the dreadful thought of Risley being nearby started to fill her.

“Which campsite—?” Lovell started to ask, his thumb on the microphone’s switch.

“Jonas,” Cody replied.

“Captain,” Lovell said into the microphone, “10-87, Jonas.”

Alyce glanced around, noticed the crowd that began to form, other teenage boys curious to the events.

“10-4,” Captain Shrader replied.

“Everybody stay away!” Lovell said, loudly to the other boys.

“The eyes—” Hugo started.

“Stay with me son,” Lovell said as he gripped Hugo’s shoulders.

Brush crunched as the four wheel ATV came crashing along the trail, Captain Shrader driving it with a carrying case strapped to the back.

“Look beneath,” Lovell said, pointed to the cabin as he squatted.

Captain Shrader got down on his knees, glanced beneath, before he stood.

“10-87 is 10-88,” Captain Shrader said into his microphone.

“Alyce, Cody, I’ll be a while here,” Lovell said as he began to pull the crime scene tape out of the carrying case, “Take care of Hugo, let him talk if he wants but do not probe. Do not let him out of your sights, either of you—that office would be good.”

“Is Risley—?” Alyce started.

“Come Mrs. G,” Cody said, “Hugo.”

Cody placed his arm around Hugo, Alyce followed.

“He’s…” Hugo muttered.

“Yeah,” Cody replied.

Alyce followed Cody and Hugo through the trails, back around the dining hall, over to the main office.

“Back already?” Keaton asked.

“Told to stay here,” Cody said, “Got a spare Bible—mine’s—”

“You’ve been reassigned to Focus Cabin C,” Keaton said, “I think your possessions have already been moved.”

“Did they bother to ask—?” Cody stammered.

“Do you really want to take that tone?” Keaton said, “It’s been suggested that your time here will go better for all involved if you resided in Focus Cabin C, unless you wish to cut your stay short.”

“There are some advantages to those,” Hugo said to Cody.

Cody grabbed a Bible from the shelf.

“Revised Standard….guess that’ll do,” Cody said.

Alyce stood nearby as Cody and Hugo went through a door on the left into the meeting room. Their voices carried as they began to recite.

“Genesis 1:1,” Cody said, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”1

“How are you holding up, Ma’am?” Keaton asked Alyce.

“I’m here,” Alyce said, “About all that I do know.”

“I could rustle up lunch a bit early,” Keaton said.

“Not hungry,” Alyce said.

“I’ll insist on you having lunch,” Keaton said, “I need to make my rounds, Later.”

Keaton left. Alyce stood there, listened as Hugo and Cody alternated between the verses. As hollow as the promises were, Alyce felt a bit of solace as she heard them recite the verses, found a measure of comfort that she’d get through this, and she would be reunited with her son, sooner or later.

…

“Exodus 40:38,” Hugo said, over an hour after they began, “ For throughout all their journeys the cloud of the Lord was upon the tabernacle by day, and fire was in it by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel.”1

“They’re still reading?” asked Keaton as he returned.

Alyce nodded as Lovell and Captain Shrader also entered the office.

“Turning into one crappy summer,” Keaton commented.

Cody and Hugo stopped reading, turned toward the adults.

“Say what?” asked Captain Shrader.

“Missing campers—and one’s already been found dead!” Keaton exclaimed.

“We never said—” Lovell started.

“It’s a summer camp—worst place for secrets,” Keaton replied.

“Cody, have you considered a career in counseling?” Lovell asked.

“Why?” Cody asked, his tone betrayed his skepticism in the question.

“Alyce,” Lovell said to her before he yawned

“Ready to talk?” Captain Shrader asked Hugo.

Lovell escorted Alyce out of the office, began to drift across the grassy field.

“You need to get some sleep,” Alyce said to Lovell.

“We’re fortunate that wasn’t one of ours,” Lovell said, “However…” he began to tremble. “It was one of the missing and it wasn’t a natural death.” Lovell stopped, held his knees. “We need to be ready..prepared—for the love of God, I truly hope not! It’s the edge of a dark abyss.”

“For once,” Alyce said, “I want to believe Cody, that they went for a hike.”

“Me too, and not some hike in the sky, a real long hike,” Lovell said, “But the facts just don’t support it.”

“I know my son,” Alyce said, “He’s just too responsible to do something so stupid.”

* * *

Risley shook as he held his hands around his bladder, the urge to let it go was strong.

“Well, do you need the pressure,” Grant said, trying to wedge the stick in his hand into the dirt at the end of a crudely drawn line in the dirt.

“Yeah,” Ifor said.

After several tries of jabbing, the large stick stood upright, waist high. Grant took the loose end to their bear rope, and tied on several smaller sticks to help the big one remain upright.

“Does it have to be touching?” Ifor asked.

“With the line is fine,” Grant said

Risley stood behind the line, his soft penis in his hand, as Grant watched it. Risley retracted his foreskin, the pink glans with its slit fully exposed.

“Tip of your dick!” Grant said.

Risley glanced down, inched until his pink began to touch it, before he arched his back backward. As his two friends watched, Risley relaxed, and a light yellow jet started to pour out as Risley began his piss.

“Go! Go!” Ifor shouted.

It arched upward, hit a foot ahead of the line. Risley pulled his soft penis upward, and the other end of the arch moved another half foot.

“More, more!” Grant said.

Risley strained, forced the pressure, and it drained faster for a few seconds before it settled back down to a slower rate.

“Well, that’s the best of it,” Risley said, his penis still draining but also hanging loose.

Grant used a small stick to mark the point, nearly four feet, where the wet trail had climaxed.

“Are you sure you’re done?” Ifor asked, his light blue eyes clearly aimed downward at Risley’s soft drizzling penis.

“Enough’s gone that it’s not much,” Risley said.

“Alright,” Ifor said as he stood behind the line.

Quite familiar to Risley, he watched Ifor. Ifor exposed his pink glans as he retracted his foreskin, raised it, checked with the line. A slit in the pink sprinkled out a dark golden yellow.

“Drink more water,” Grant said.

Ifor’s sprinkle became a gusher as he aimed it upward; however, the week pressure kept him from going Risley’s distance, and it petered out to two feet for a moment before it faded. Grant took a small sick, marked this, and handed the water bottle over to Ifor. Ifor drank.

“Go for it,” Risley said to Grant.

Grant, with his beard coming in, nipples on his chest, and the scruffy brown pubic hair stepped to be behind the line. He brought his circumcised soft penis forward, stepped until it lined up, before he aimed it upward. Nearly clear, the liquid jet squirted out to leave no survivors.

“It’s best to be a bit waterlogged in this contest,” Grant said, a grin on his face, while his stream kept its arch for a good ten seconds before it came to a fast end.

“And Grant wins it by half a foot!” Ifor said as he marked it with a stick.

“Lemme try again,” Risley said.

“Really?” Ifor said, “You just—”

“Let him try,” Grant said.

Risley returned to the line. However, his fingers teased his foreskin, drew out the erection.

“This I gotta watch,” Ifor said.

Risley focused on those eyes of his friends as he began to stroke. Ifor’s light blues that studied as Risley’s hand moved. Eyes that made Risley self–conscious to the exposure, that he was jerking off to the audience, enough awareness that were nearly as effective as a pair of tits. His penis, the center of attention, not the pubic hair nor balls nearby, but his foreskin slipping with each stroke. Sharing his experience felt right, more than the dick of four weeks, the one they had all gotten to know better. Ifor’s own arousal, stiffening, meant that Ifor was experiencing this too, and Risley felt the spasms. A quench and pressure, a tremor and a release; his off–white liquid shot out, flew three feet before it hit the ground.

“Honorable mention,” Grant announced.

“I’ll…” Ifor started, “Let you have the moment, Ris.”

“Shit from the tree tomorrow?” Grant asked.

Ifor laughed.

“I’ll get some berries,” Risley said as he grabbed the medium pot.

Risley let his softening dick drool, ooze, as he went across the meadow, headed for the trail.

* * *

Glow of the tablet illuminated Lovell’s face. Frame by frame, Lovell studied the video from the airport, of the four teenagers heading out of the secure area.

“Still at it?” asked Captain Shrader.

“We’re missing something,” Lovell said.

“Sleep,” Captain Shrader said, “Have you slept since you gotten here?”

“No,” Lovell admitted.

“I understand, trust me,” Captain Shrader said, “But you’re doing nobody favors by sacrificing a clear head. I’ll take you back to camp, where you’re to take at least eight hours of sleep, understood?”

“Yes,” Lovell said, “In a moment.”

“I’ll get my keys,” Captain Shrader said as he went for his tiny office.

Lovell quickly tapped out a message.

Donald, need your expertise. — Lovell.

He hit _send_.

“Come on,” Captain Shrader said, “I’ll pick you back up after breakfast.”

Lovell stood up and followed.

* * *

1 _The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version_ , Second Edition, Thomas Nelson Inc, 1971.  



	14. Job

“Chad,” Norman said, black tie over his shirt, skyline of Portland out both windows of his corner office up in the air, “If there’s ever a case to be made, it’s this.”

“Rules exist to keep order,” Chad said, “Without order, we fall. She’s out of paid leave, so this would make her fourth unexcused absence—does she want to keep her job or not?”

“She just landed us—” Norman said.

“I’m sorry,” Chad said, “This is final.”

Saturday, July 18th

“Norman!” Alyce said to the phone, in her cabin, “My son’s lost out there—we’re looking for him now.”

“My sympathies, but policy is policy,” Norman replied over the phone, “I tried, but corporate does not feel that an exception is warranted.”

“I thought this was a family orientated business!” Alyce said, “My son—they’re asking me to chose between my son and my job—”

Connection lost.

Alyce sighed, got up. She felt the fresh air as she left her cabin, dampness in the air leftover from the rain, with a green shirt T–shirt on.

“Damn signal!” came the exclaim from the next cabin.

“Lovell?” Alyce asked.

“Trying—these aren’t sound proof, are they?” Lovell asked.

Alyce glanced at the thin green side paneling.

“Nope, nor provide much in insulation,” Alyce said, “Morning.”

“Was talking to Portland,” Lovell said, “They understand—you’d think a camp—”

“It’s in the middle of the woods,” Alyce said, “Doubt they want the campers hooked onto their gadgets. Any luck?”

“No,” Lovell said, “I’ll be a few minutes more—um, think you could make up a missing flyer?”

“Missing—?” Alyce started.

“You know, the boys,” Lovell said, “Hand them out, maybe somebody’s seen something.”

“Yeah,” Alyce said.

“Could you mind a bit of privacy?” Lovell asked.

Alyce heard the shower inside starting up. She left the cabin area, followed the road up to the parking lot, to her blue rental car, when she realized she had details to sort out herself, the car was due back Sunday—her plans of seeing her son had taken an unexpected detour.

“Lost?” asked Lovell, coming up from behind her. His polished livery reflected the blue of the sky on his otherwise black Portland Police uniform.

“You know who is,” Alyce replied.

A shriek, her eyes darted to the red convertible with its top down. A howl and ginger red hair appeared as the young Tomas Hunter stood up. A slim bit of red pubic hair showed above the white briefs with a tent pole, beneath his purple staff shirt, and Tomas jumped out, ran barefooted to a trail.

“Everything alright?” Lovell asked.

Blue eyes beneath brown hair appeared.

“Fine, it’s okay,” the girl said, “Seriously.”

“Oh to be young again,” Lovell said, quietly.

Lovell and Alyce went down the road.

“I was expecting…once I get a good connection,” Alyce said, “Have to call the airline, rebook.”

“Ask for options,” Lovell said, “Surely, they’ll understand.”

They entered the dining room, full of teenagers, took a corner table near the door.

“Glad they reserve a table for guests,” Lovell said.

Alyce glanced across the room, Cody was at a table by himself, facing the other corner. Even for his misbehavior, isolation seemed a bit drastic, maybe he’ll learn. She grabbed a cup of juice, brought it to her lips, before she put it back down onto the table, fast.

“And there’s work,” Alyce said, “Suppose Norman could persuade human resources…”

“That too,” Lovell said, “For the love of God—our sons are out there. Any business with any shred of humanity will understand.”

Lovell worked on the sausage.

“And this was only supposed to be a couple of days,” Alyce said, the yogurt seemed attractive.

“And if you hadn’t come—where would your son be?” Lovell rested his fork on his plate. “Like mine, lost but with nobody looking. That…that bothers me a lot. I’m very grateful you talked your company into this layover, that you scratched that itch. Otherwise—otherwise, we’d be asking Cody, in Portland, where our sons are. It could’ve happened!”

“It’s frustrating,” Alyce said.

“I know,” Lovell said, “Fortunately I was able to get in enough calls—people are going to be showing up. Searchers from Anchorage, Fairbanks, Seattle — even California is sending people.”

“But no Grant—no Risley—nor Ifor,” Alyce said, “Got a good compass?”

“And join the list of the missing?” Lovell said, “That’s not fair to Marcia to lose both her brother and her mother.”

“At any moment—” Alyce said.

“We do know the boys are strong,” Lovell said, “We’ve got that going for—”

“Everywhere else is full!” exclaimed a blond haired boy, so loud that it echoed throughout the entire dining hall.

Alyce glanced at him, this boy a couple of years younger than Risley, with those eyes, before the other tables with plenty of room. This boy sat down at the table near Lovell.

“Um…Mr…Ulverston?” the boy whispered before leaned over, spent a bit more moving his lips as Lovell listened.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Lovell whispered, “Play along.”

Alyce watched the change of expression on Lovell as he raised his voice.

“How dare you chew with your mouth open!” Lovell exclaimed, “Sort you out with the director!”

Lovell pulled on the boy’s arm as he stood. Alyce followed.

“What’s your name?” Lovell asked as they crossed the gravel, around Captain Shrader’s groaning patrol car.

“Roderick,” the boy said, “Or Rod.”

“Nice ruse,” Lovell said, “You’re not in trouble, however, I think we need to know everything, alright?”

“Okay,” Rod said.

“What about?” Alyce asked as they entered the main office with its horizontal log walls.

Lovell turned on the radio in the office, loud. He brought Rod into the meeting room, where Captain Shrader was already sitting, and closed the door. Alyce understood the hint, turned around.

“What’s happening?” Cody asked as he ran up.

“One word and you could’ve saved everybody a lot of hassle,” Alyce said, her eyes bore down on him, “Was it worth not uttering?”

“Not anymore,” Cody said.

“Good,” Alyce said, “I may have to leave tomorrow, with or without Risley.”

“They’re alright,” Cody said, “Well—dunno, haven’t spoken to them since they left. But they seemed satisfied with their planning.”

“Sorry about that,” Lovell said as he came out of the main office, toward Alyce.

“What’s going on?” Alyce asked as Roderick followed Captain Shrader to the patrol car.

“Sorry, can’t divulge, not yet,” Lovell said, “But it doesn’t look good.”

Lovell took the two steps, got into the passenger seat.

“Look,” Lovell said, “Make that flyer, okay?”

Captain Shrader put the shifter into drive, and drove away. Another van approached, marked with Alaska Crime Lab on the side.

“No…no…” Alyce stammered, not wanting to think the worst.”

Cody sighed. “Dunno Mrs. G. I’m wagering on them until I know otherwise.”

“You already did!” Alyce snapped, “My baby’s in danger!”

* * *

Risley felt the tapping beneath the map between him and Ifor. A glance to Ifor netted a grin while the hard shaft kept tapping against Risley’s soft. Risley studied the blue curves, the brown contours, and the black trail.

“Got it memorized?” Grant asked.

“Think so,” Ifor said.

“Sure,” Risley said as he felt another tap.

Grant took the flexible map. Beneath, Ifor kept flexing his hips and his hard erection kept touching each side of Risley’s penis. Left side before Ifor twisted and the hit the right.

“It’s been, what?” Grant said as he put his map into his backpack, tied it onto the rope, and hoisted it up the flagpole, “Sixty, seventy years since anybody’s properly funded the national parks?”

Ifor followed Grant first, across the meadow.

“Something like that,” Ifor said, “All it ever did was highlight how humanity has failed to take care of God’s creation.”

Risley walked fast, ran for Ifor’s backside. Risley jumped, gripped Ifor around the neck, pulled himself up, and wrapped his legs around Ifor’s torso. Risley’s ankles touched Ifor’s thighs, while Risley’s soft dick laid against Ifor’s lower back.

“You’re too heavy,” Ifor said as he staggered.

Risley slid off, walked next to Ifor.

“It’d be heavier with a pack on,” Risley stated.

“Offering to carry me?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Risley said.

“Packs can’t piss on me,” Ifor retorted.

“You mean you’re afraid of this?” Risley as he held his penis, aimed sideways, and peed.

“Like that!” Ifor said, pulling his hard erection up out of the way of the golden stream, “You nearly got—”

“Taking the leak for you,” Risley offered.

“You two!” Grant stammered as he laughed.

“Join in the fun?” Ifor asked.

“Should I start by pissing on your foot?” Grant asked.

“Do it!” Risley exclaimed, now ignored the face he was taking a leak as they walked, that he was leaving a thin trail that zigzagged with his walk, until it petered to a droplet here and there.

“So, what’s with these rocks?” Ifor asked.

“It’s a glacier,” Grant said, “One of the few left.”

Risley’s erection grew as he walked and he paid little attention to it as they kept moving.

* * *

Roderick shook, more than the table wobbled in the small interrogation room.

“Water?” Lovell asked.

“What do you—?” Captain Shrader asked.

“Thanks,” Roderick said, taking the cup.

“What the Captain wants is a bit more tangible,” Lovell explained.

“Have you checked?” Roderick asked.

“See to the search,” Captain Shrader said to Lovell.

Lovell left the interrogation room, entered the small room with the busy desks.

“Sir, we found—” started a young man with a T–shirt of an Orca killer whale, near a radio.

“Sargent,” said Wilber, “Can we—bit stuffy in here.”

Lovell and Wilber went out of the room, into the crowded corridor, outside to the unevenly mowed lawn.

“No offense, but you’re a parent of those involved,” Wilber said.

“My son’s out there!” Lovell said.

“As one cop to another, I want to spare you any grisly details,” Wilber replied.

“I appreciate the consideration,” Lovell said, “Still, I’d rather know the truth, even if it sucks.”

“Sargent,” said Captain Shrader as he came out, Roderick followed, “Think you’re doing better at the camp, I’ll bring you back. See what you can find out from the rest of the campers, they seem to respect you.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said.

“Get in,” the Captain said.

Lovell got into the patrol car, along with Roderick. A couple of backfires, and the car rattled as Captain Shrader drove.

“What did you find out?” Lovell asked.

“These will be trying times for you,” the Captain Shrader said, “But as a cop, you also appreciate the need for discretion at times.”

“Yes,” Lovell said, “My son’s still out there.”

“There’s that woman too,” Captain Shrader said, “Not your wife?”

“No,” Lovell said, “Risley and Ifor and Grant and Cody were—are all pals. Our little squad sponsors a Wild Trekkers—they coordinated their projects for their Golden Claws, a shared ceremony back in May.”

“So, are you confident in their abilities to survive?” the Captain asked, “If pressed to do so?”

“Yes,” Lovell said.

“There’s your ray of hope,” Captain Shrader said, “Make sure that woman sees it too, something to cling onto. She needs help just like you and your boys do.”

Captain Shrader stopped in the parking lot.

“Roderick, can you do with the hike?” Captain Shrader asked.

“Best up here,” Roderick said, “Less chance of being seen.”

Lovell and Roderick got out.

“Sargent, need to get back,” Captain Shrader said, “His leads are turning up—I’ll keep you informed.”

“I appreciate that,” Lovell said.

Captain Shrader drove the car away, left.

“Thank you,” Roderick said, “Thank you for believing me—the director didn’t, only made things worse.”

“My son’s missing,” Lovell said as they walked along.

“I’ve never seen him,” Roderick said, “But it’s a big camp—seems smaller now.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” came Alyce’s voice from her guest cabin.

“She’s…?” Roderick asked.

“Risley’s mother,” Lovell said.

“SETH! My boy’s likely dead!” Alyce said, “And Norman thinks I should be back at work on Monday pretending like everything’s fine? Can you organize a strike?”

Lovell understood the Captain Shrader’s message along with his experience with his first rookie so many years ago, sometimes the duty is for one.

“Find Cody,” Lovell said.

“The outcast?” Roderick said, “We’re not supposed to—”

“He can help you,” Lovell said.

Roderick left.

“Seth, you’re my coworker!” Alyce said, “Can’t you talk around, get me a bit of sympathy and understanding. I’d appreciate it. Bye.”

Lovell knocked on the door.

“What?!” Alyce stammered as she opened the door. “Oh, it’s you, any news?”

“Was wondering if you finished that flyer?” Lovell asked.

“Sorry, been a bit preoccupied!” Alyce said, “Trying to keep everything together is rather tough!”

“Well, I’d offer you a glass of wine, but I doubt they’ve got that around here,” Lovell said, “Settle for a glass of juice, in the dining hall, where we can work on this together, alright?”

“Um…sure,” Alyce said.

She grabbed her tablet and phone, left the cabin. They headed for the dining hall.

“I was given a timeout myself,” Lovell said, “Oh, they coach it differently, but it’s a timeout. Our sons are out there, we want to go out and lead the search, but we’re more in the way of them doing their jobs to find them.”

“Tough being on this side?” Alyce asked.

“Yes,” Lovell said as they entered the empty dining hall.

Lovell walked over to the jug, filled two plastic cups with the orange liquid, and went over to the table that Alyce sat down at. Clear panoramic view of the entire field between the woods on sloping hills to either side, grass with the flag pole, the water of the lake beyond.

“Every instinct says one thing,” Lovell said, “But the rational approach is different. If they still have their wits about them, they’ll make it. Lets give them an extra advantage—this flyer so regular people know to be on the lookout for them. Lets sort through our photos, we’ve got all three of them somewhere. We haven’t even thought to call Clancy or Meredith, have we? Let them know Grant’s missing too?”

“I…it hadn’t occurred to me,” Alyce said, “I told Edgar of course.”

“Yolanda’s not taking it well either,” Lovell said as he scrolled through the photos on his phone, the blue eyes beaming back on a number of them, “Even the Captain had to remind me the boys are…well, it’s more important to have faith in them, maybe that’ll count.”

“What did that other boy have to say?” Alyce asked.

“Misbehaving counselors,” Lovell said, “That’s all I’m at liberty—”

Red and blue flashing lights. Deputy Wilber came from the left, hands around the arms of Tomas Hunter. Tomas, merely dressed in a skimpy black leather shirt, with a tight leather jockstrap binding a tent pole beneath, blushed, while a white coroner’s van pulled up.

“Oh no!” Alyce said as she joined in Lovell rushing out of the dining hall.

“What’s the meaning of this?” asked Valerija, standing next to the main office.

“Tomas Hunter,” announced Captain Shrader, “You’re being arrested for the charge of murder!”

“Lovell?” Alyce whispered.

“Our missing campers?” Valerija asked.

“At least two,” Captain Shrader said.

“You’re fired,” Valerija said to Hunter, before Wilber pushed him into Captain Shrader’s car.

“Captain—?” Lovell started.

“Well, you got the memo now,” Captain Shrader said, “Sorry—but I needed surprise, the other two counselors are being rounded up now.”

“What about my son?” Lovell asked.

“I don’t know,” Captain Shrader said, “I need to—”

“Call a press conference,” Lovell said as he got the idea, “Some publicity might be good, maybe even convince somebody to buy you a new timing belt.”

“I’ll consider it,” Captain Shrader said.

“Two so far?” Alyce asked.

“Second one isn’t your son unless he was your daughter,” Captain Shrader said, “Later.”

Captain Shrader got into the car, the squeal followed as the car drifted up the road.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Alyce asked Lovell.

“Certain counselors were acting out sexual perversions with some of the campers,” Lovell said, “Took things too far.”

“Under my watch?!” Valerija asked.

“Sorry, yes,” Lovell said, “We don’t know how many.”

Alyce cried when her phone rang.

“Hello?” Alyce muttered, before her voice raised, “No, I don’t think—this isn’t a good time.”

“Can you help me get to the bottom of this?” Valerija said, “This is supposed to be a proper camp, follow the edicts of the Bible, now I’ve got to write an unpleasant report to the board of directors.”

“My son’s still out there,” Lovell said, “That’s my first priority. Alyce, that flyer.”

Lovell brought Alyce back into the dining hall, to the table, and handed her his handkerchief.

“That counselor reminded me of that stripper I busted while Ifor was riding along,” Lovell said, “Talk about difficult, had to convince him that she was merely a dancer—he wondered why I wouldn’t take him to see their routine, but I couldn’t bring him to an illegal club.”

Alyce snorted.

“Regardless of the outcome, we still have memories,” Lovell said, “Treasure them and lets focus on this flyer.”

Lovell tapped on the tablet, dropped in the group picture from the Golden Claw Ceremony, zoomed in onto the faces. Lovell was determined to rescue his boy, hoped Ifor wasn’t among the campers that Roderick described. However, he had to be ready to face the possibility of Ifor’s demise.

* * *

Ifor led the way along the trail, sky darkening both from the coming evening and the dark clouds that drifted inward, leaving it particular dark beneath the grove of trees.

“Short hike?” Risley asked, “More like fifty miles each way!”

“Only ten,” Grant said, “We’ve done that before.”

Ifor felt the fast pain as he swung his left foot, glanced at the root he had tried to go through, and stumbled.

“Ow…Ow..” Ifor exclaimed as the rush of pain came through him. He hopped for a few moments on his right foot.

“Are you alright?” Grant asked.

“No, dancing!” Ifor barked, “Of course it hurts!” He tried rubbing his left ankle, extreme soreness.

“How far left?” Risley asked.

“Mile, two, not sure,” Grant said, “Map’s in the backpack, at camp.”

“Try putting some pressure on it,” Risley suggested.

Ifor put his left leg back down, tried pushing, but the soreness and he stumbled. Risley caught Ifor’s side. Ifor extended his left arm around Risley’s neck, held on tight.

“Will that work?” Grant asked.

Risley took a step, Ifor hopped.

“Okay, so we should’ve brought at least one backpack,” Grant said, “Best to hurry back—Got an idea. Hold on.”

Grant came to Ifor’s right side; Ifor reached around Grant’s neck.

“Your idea?” Risley asked.

“Carry him,” Grant said.

Grant’s left arm reached between Ifor’s legs, around his right thigh, pulled while Grant’s right hand pushed him back slightly. Risley watched, moved his right arm between Ifor’s legs, and lifted on Ifor’s left thigh. Ifor felt the weight leave his feet, slid forward until his stiffening penis was between the arms.

“Oh, you would,” Grant said.

“Let’s go,” Risley said.

Grant and Risley moved forward, took steps, slower as Ifor was along for the ride. Ifor felt the frequent brushing of the arm hair against his stiff erection trapped between them, a swipe against his exposed pink glans. Ifor became very self–aware of his imposition, his penis appreciated the continual rubbing along with his balls against his friends’ arms.

“Um…thank you,” Ifor said.

“For what?” Risley asked.

A moment later, Ifor felt the quiver, the spasm.

“He’s happy,” Grant said.

Overall, Ifor was happy, happy enough that he no longer bore that sense of shame or bashfulness when his dick was being his dick with his friends, even as it pulsated to send out his seed. The rush of his fresh ejaculation helped Ifor ignore the tenderness in his left ankle.

“Always a welcome distraction,” Ifor said.

They returned to the meadow.

“How’s it feeling now?” Grant asked as they lowered him near the fire–pit.

Ifor stood on his right leg, his penis now soft, and put a bit of pressure onto his left. He fell back onto his bare butt, rubbed his sore ankle.

“Not good,” Ifor said, feeling it, “Not fatal—nothing sharp.”

“Twisted or sprained?” Grant said, “Doesn’t matter, similar enough, I’ll get you the wrap.”

Risley leaned over the fireplace, shook his bare buttocks toward Ifor, before he dropped in some shavings and kindling.

“Last match,” Risley said as he struck it, “Got the flint?”

“Should,” Ifor said.

Flame flickered, began to grow. Ifor focused on the shadow of Risley’s testicles dangling a foot in front of him.

Pfffpt!

“Away from here, if you must,” Ifor said.

“Don’t want the stench again,” Risley said as he left.

Ifor grabbed a nearby stick, poked the larger sticks into the growing flame. Grant brought over the tape.

“Lift your foot,” Grant said.

Ifor did this, rested his left calf onto his right knee.

“Thank you—ow!” Ifor exclaimed as the tape went on, the pain came back for a moment.

“It’ll be my turn soon enough,” Grant said.

Ifor glanced down, the pink glans illuminated, distinct from the rest of Grant’s circumcised penis, and a reminder of the friend attached to it.

* * *

Sunday, July 19th

Lovell motioned Sunday morning to Alyce as she stepped out of her blue rental car. Ahead was an array of occupied folding chairs on the unevenly mowed lawn outside the familiar dilapidated building of the Landcastle Police Department.

“Come along,” Lovell said, “Smile for the cameras.”

“This was your idea?” Alyce asked.

“We need the publicity,” Lovell said as they sat down in the row behind the podium, the one in the center of the reporters and cameras.

“Ready?” Captain Shrader asked Lovell.

“Get it over with,” Lovell replied.

Captain Shrader adjusted his wide brimmed hat as he stepped up to the podium and spoke into the microphones on it.

“Good morning,” the Captain said, “I’m Captain Elliot Shrader and the sixth generation as the Chief of the Landcastle Police Department. God revealed a tragedy and so we finally meet, today, to help answer some of your questions.

“In most years, I take pride in the Beacon of the Light Youth camp and often stop in just to chat or a bite of their excellent grub. Last week, after learning that a camper was missing, we investigated to discover that a total of seven were missing. An ongoing search has uncovered four sets of remains, two have been positively identified and the other two are tentatively identified to be of the missing campers. Three are still unaccounted for and we are continuing the search for any and all leads.

“We have identified three suspects and a conspirator; the suspects are in custody. In no way should this reflect on the overall quality of the camp, but these three were youth counselors and have been duly fired. Nala Winslow, Erbos Fannon, and Tomas Hunter have been charged with four counts murder—to be updated as more facts emerge. We believe this was the result of hazing, a series of secret ordeals based on perversion, torture, and overexertion. We thank the Civil Air Patrol in their assistance so far in locating two that we believe died on a death march. The suspects intimidated their surviving victims into not coming forward. A fourth person is being deemed an unwitting conspirator, manipulated, and given both his subsequent cooperation and being a minor, he is not of current interest.

“Of the seven, three victims have not been located. We are still looking for Grant Jasper Barnet, Ifor Lovell Ulverston, and Risley Edgar Gillespie, whom we believe vanished during one of these death marches. We hold some hope that they may yet survive, as those three are Wild Trekkers, having earned the distinguished Golden Claw award. Therefore, so long as they have their wits about them, these three stand a chance; but they vanished four weeks ago and we have yet to hear from them.”

“So, who are these?” asked a lady reporter, her fingers pointed to Alyce and Lovell.

“My apologies, these are two of the parents,” Captain Shrader said, “Sargent Lovell Ulverston, of the Portland Police Department; and Alyce Gillespie, in—I think it’s owned by the Chinese.”

Lovell nudged Alyce.

“Calvin Engineering, in Portland,” Alyce said.

“How do you feel—” the reporter started.

“Alyce is naturally upset,” Captain Shrader said, “However, I owe her much gratitude. It was her decision to try to drop by to see her son that helped us uncover these despicable counselors. I should add that Beacon of the Light explicitly forbids the types of behaviors that were exhibited and is currently reevaluating each member of staff in light of these incidents.”

“Hold still,” Lovell whispered to Alyce.

Lovell stood, crowding a bit with Captain Shrader in front of the microphones.

“Ifor, my son, s aspiring to be a third generation police officer,” Lovell said, “I must admit, this is difficult—all the training on helping others cope falls short when it’s your own. Helping Captain Shrader in this investigation, where I can, at least makes me feel like I’m contributing. I empathize with Alyce, as both of our sons are trapped in this God awful situation.”

“Be strong,” Captain Shrader said as he gave a quick grip to Lovell’s shoulder.

“And please excuse Alyce,” Lovell said, “She must abandon her search for her son so that she can return home as her employer, Calvin Engineering in Portland, has promised to fire her if she doesn’t show up tomorrow. It’s a job that helps to support her husband—a wounded veteran, her daughter, and her missing son. Thank you for your support.”

Applause and Lovell sat down.

“Thank you,” Alyce said to Lovell.

“This concludes this conference,” Captain Shrader said, “I will let you know the moment I have any further updates.”

Lovell stood, motioned for Alyce, and they began to head back to her rental car.

“How old are these boys?” asked a reporter.

“Sixteen, give or take,” Lovell replied, “The lady needs to catch her flight so she can work tomorrow.”

Reporters gave way as they talked into their phones, took notes, and sent messages. They came to the blue compact rental car.

“Your little stunt—” Alyce started.

RING! RING!

Alyce answered her phone.

“Hello? Norman?” Alyce asked, “Speaking. Understood. Bless the Lord.”

Alyce hung up.

“I’m telling you—” Lovell said.

“It worked,” Alyce said, “They’re even offering to fly Edgar up—but I suspect Marcia’s better suited.”

“Back to camp?” Lovell asked.

“I had already rebooked the flights,” Alyce said, “At least I don’t have to quit. What are the odds?”

“I’d like to believe Cody,” Lovell said, “Perhaps he’s right, even if he’s wrong. If … if they’re gone, that they are hiking together with the Lord?”

“That doesn’t change…flyers won’t change it, like not that many people go off into the wilderness to begin with,” Alyce said.

“Occasionally people do,” Lovell said, “Even heard a couple of girls ventured not too far north of here, other side of the mountain range, a few days ago.”

“Wishful thinking,” Alyce replied.


	15. Birds

Sunday, July 19th

Wrapping the end of the jetty, Risley studied the ragged tip of the foreskin tight against the head of Ifor’s erection hanging in the air above the small wood burning camp stove. Ifor moved on the wooden crutch, kept his dick soaking in the same heat that kept the scrotum soft and pliable beneath the crop of billowing brown pubic hair. Risley rolled on the open sleeping bag.

“What—where?” Risley asked.

“I scavenged the ruins,” Ifor said.

“Nails?” Risley asked.

“Nearly stepped on one,” Ifor said, “This crutch, a medicine box, even had a little—”

Risley sniffed, moved up to see into the metal pan.

“Pancakes?” Risley asked.

“Dunno how old the mix was,” Ifor said, “Seems good enough.”

“Fish is nice, gets a bit old,” Risley said.

“Fish will be soon enough,” Ifor said, “Not more than a couple of meals.”

“Blueberries!” Grant exclaimed as he came across the meadow.

“What you get for sleeping in,” Ifor said, “Luckily they had some aspirin, helps with the ankle.”

“Yeah, that,” Risley said.

Risley stared a bit at that hard erection, with the ragged bit past the tip. Though accustomed to it, Risley felt the display of trust that Ifor had, of the friend bound in it.

“Up for a hike?” Risley asked as he sat up.

“No!” Ifor sputtered.

“We could—” Grant backed up a few paces, his penis began to drizzle before it became a yellow jet. “Um…There’s a good viewpoint for Denali, not too far.”

“Go,” Ifor said, handing the pot over to Risley.

“We need to stick together,” Risley said as he grabbed the first one. He ate, tasted the stale goodness.

Grant laughed.

“Best we have,” Ifor said, “Not like we’ve got butter or syrup.”

Risley kept an eye on Grant’s slit, pouring out, to the new muddy spot on the half grassy ground.

“It’s along the trail, right?” Ifor said, “Not like you’ll get lost, nor like I’ll be doing much wandering.”

“Something happens?” Risley asked.

“You’ll find me on top of the flag pole,” Ifor said, “It’s not broken, just sprained.”

“Alright,” Grant said, “Coming Ris?”

“He needs me to spice up his hotcake,” Ifor said, wrapping one around his hard cock.

“No thanks,” Risley said.

Ifor, though, moved his hand, stroked.

“Aw…” Ifor muttered as his off white flew to the ground.

“You wasted it!” Grant said.

“You’re pulling our legs,” Risley said as he stood.

“Oh, I definitely pulled!” Ifor said, holding the pancake up.

“Ready?” Grant asked Risley.

Grant and Risley crossed the meadow.

“Butts!” Ifor yelled, “I need more butts!”

Risley shook his before stepping onto the trail.

“Think we can go naked when we get home?” Risley asked, “Love—” He peed as he walked along. “No potty breaks.”

Grant laughed as they came to the trail junction, turned right.

“Try it and you’re shitting your pants,” Grant said.

“Don’t want them,” Risley said, “Nor shoes.” He stopped, pulled a brier thorn out of his heel. “Well, maybe sandals.”

Pfffpt!

“Saving up for when we get back?” Grant asked.

“Why’d you say that?” Risley asked, feigning ignorance to the mild pressure building.

“Seems disgusting to me, but you two are having fun with your little game, so I don’t care,” Grant said, “Kind of funny, actually.”

“Glad it amuses you,” Risley said as he checked Grant’s butt for any signs of movement.

“Only favor I ask is you wash it off before getting into the sleeping bag,” Grant said.

Risley patted Grant’s buttocks.

“Ifor…he’d…” Risley started.

“Know why that is?” Grant asked.

“Part of the game,” Risley said, “I’m way, way, better at it—watch!”

Grant paused, spun around, as Risley grabbed his soft penis. Tucked in the curls of his left fingers, his dick laid there as the right retracted the foreskin, teased. A moment later, it stiffened hard.

“See?” Risley asked.

Grant turned around and they kept walking along, just below the ridge.

“Though Ifor does manage to keep his up for a while,” Risley said as his erection softened.

“Age?” Grant asked.

“I’m sixteen next month!” Risley said, “You’re the old man here!”

“Ifor’s two weeks older,” Grant said.

“You’ll both be seventeen before the year is up!” Risley said, “For me—I can’t legally drive.”

“I thought about it, hoped stalling would change my old man’s mind,” Grant said.

“You know the way?” Risley asked.

“Yeah, it was easy back when this park was actually funded,” Grant said, “Now this spot was likely marked and most likely still is.”

Grant ducked first, around an overgrown bush nearly blocking the trail.

“Wonder what Cody’s up to?” Risley asked.

“Like always?” Grant exaggerated his voice as his eyes on his softly bearded face studied Risley’s. “Penned out the entire bible onto sheepskin, for that real, authentic, old testament feel!”

Risley laughed.

Pfffpt!

“You’ve read all about that stupid camp,” Grant said, “Nothing redeeming—heck, if I wanted a summer’s worth of summer camp, I could’ve applied as staff to a Wild Trekkers camp!”

“Yeah,” Risley said, “Not having to forage for food would be nice.”

“I’ll give you that—being fed is certainly easier,” Grant said, “Rest—well, if you want to go for a paddle, we can build a boat.”

“Sounds like work,” Risley said.

“That, it is,” Grant said, laughing.

“Got a whole lifetime of that—no point in starting early,” Risley said, “In the fall—grr….”

“Do you think your mom landed the gig?” Grant asked.

“She worked on that proposal for months!” Risley said, “I get to be an intern at her firm, because working for Mom is such a great perk!”

“Try working for Dad—at least lemme work on my plumber’s butt!” Grant exclaimed as he bent over. Feet spread, the darkness of the anus clear. “How is it?”

“Nearly there,” Risley said as Grant stood back up.

Pfffpt!

“You’re right” Grant pointed to a marked trail that headed a short way up to the top of the ridge. Risley climbed it until it crested, where it was wide with a mild drop off. Ahead of them, ascending tall with some snow, was the large mountain.

“Depending on who you ask, it’s either Mt. McKinley after our twenty fifth president—assassinated at the start of the twentieth century,” Grant said, “Or Denali, as the locals call it. It’s the tallest mountain in North America—” he looked around “—there ought to be a logbook around here. I’ll even sign you and Ifor, stay put.”

Grant went down the access trail, turned left.

“Yes!” came Grant’s faint yell.

Risley stood there, watched the towering mountain, a rare breed with any substantial glaciers remaining. Unconcerned about the exposure for what was for many miles, a cold gust blew across him and his cock rose in salute to the mountain to lock into place.

Pfffpt!

With a bit more pressure, Risley spread his legs a bit, bent a bit forward, allowed his bowels to do their thing. Risley admired the hill as he let this sphincter relax, if only every bathroom had this view. Risley smelled a bit of the foul air, heard the slipping, felt the release of the pressure as the thick strands of brown dropped from his anus, as he heard a voice that was not Grant’s.

“Bear.”

Risley’s sludge moved faster as it kept falling out of him.

“Cute calling cards.”

As Risley turned, he realized that these were new voices, two teenage girls around his age, for whom their first impression was him taking a shit, both of whom kept glancing at his fully deployed staff as they dropped their backpacks onto the trail and approached. In an instant, bashfulness about his nudity returned, these girls admired him and his pubic hair on full display. A taller blond one with shirt and blue jeans, the shorter brown haired girl had nothing on except a pair of pony tails to her ears.

Out of ideas, Risley grinned and waved.

“Anything 'ze matter?” asked the taller one.

“It’s fine,” Risley said, “Nice day.”

“He’s strong,” said the shorter girl, partially hiding behind the taller girl.

Risley became quite aware of the eyes roaming, studying, assessing him, as nothing was hidden. His chest, his balls, his stiff erection with its retracted foreskin, his pubic hair, even his armpits, were exposed for their pleasure. Short girl twisted, her bare buttocks exposed, his cock twitched, when his favorite retort came to his lips.

“Nice butt,” Risley asked.

“Think so?” the brown haired girl asked, turned around away from her friend.

Risley brought no argument against the invitation. Instead surveyed the bare muscles, youthful rumps, with the crack heading down to the dark spot he realized must be her anus, before it yielded to the parting of her toned thighs. Risley now deemed his hard dick appropriate.

“You just met him Dorcia,” the blonde said.

“So, Maev, what’d you think we should do?” Dorcia said as she spun around, “As they say, the Lord helps those who help themselves, and stumbling across this handsome boy in the woods—I’ve never seen a boy naked in the flesh before—my brothers don’t count. And he clearly likes me—” she pointed to Risley’s hard erection.

Risley’s glans flared as he glanced at the slot by her legs, the shaven pubic with a point, and an opening that the Penis Handbook had referred to, where it was supposed to fit. Any sense of modesty evaporated with the building desire—she seemed right and he relaxed, the pressure of the bladder yielded and his warm golden stream jetted out.

“That was fast,” Dorcia said.

“He’s peeing,” the blonde Maev said, “You want to—”

“It ain’t fake,” Dorcia said.

“I let it seltzer as it wants,” Risley said.

Dorcia rubbed her naked nipples and Risley felt the twitch, his hard cock trying to be Pinocchio’s nose, grow even more, however, his woody was merely flesh. Risley stood there as she began to approach, the beauty enticing, when he spotted a mole, a mole near her right nipple, when it clicked. Proportions of her breasts, not super huge, nor tiny, familiar as they’ve been in his dreams. He should’ve seen this coming as he had discussed their plans with her.

“Yeah, he’s desirable,” Dorcia said, getting next to him, “Lemme—”

“SprinterWV?” Risley whispered.

She hugged Risley, her breasts pushed against his chest, her stomach against his, and she pushed into his back, near his shoulder blades.

“So those balls are familiar, WoodyElf,” Dorcia whispered, “And…” she felt his glans, the foreskin.

“And?” Maev asked.

“Yes,” Dorcia announced, “Definitely a virgin!”

Risley’s tongue tied, he didn’t feel like publicly announcing that even though it was the truth.

“He wants to,” Dorcia said, “But isn’t like my brother.”

“You’ve—?” Risley started to ask.

“Training,” Dorcia said, “You’re for real—wanna try?”

Risley felt her fingers latch onto his testicles, explored to his hard cock, and guided it to the middle between her legs. Risley felt his stiffness slip inward, warmth to both sides, surrounded his firm flesh. Risley understood his role, instinct and a few pictures from the Penis Handbook were his guide, and he immediately flexed his hips. Risley’s felt the shaft move as he drilled.

“Oh,” said Grant as he came back along the trail, stood still.

“Oh, two?” Maev asked.

“Um…” Grant stumbled.

While Risley didn’t need the blushing nor mind reading required to realize the awkwardness within Grant for suddenly being naked the first time in front of a girl even after having spent weeks between the boys; Risley was more focused on Dorcia, her nipples still in him.

“Those could work too,” Dorcia said, as she turned her eyes toward Grant.

“Mine…” Risley started before the quivers came within him. He didn’t think to pull, felt the release and spasms as he ejaculated within her. His cock shrunk as he pulled it out, with a bit of white dew oozing on the slit.

“Yep, was a virgin,” Dorcia said, “Don’t fret, you’ll perform well with time.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Maev asked.

Risley glanced at the blonde, her green T–shirt, head aimed toward Grant with a limp penis.

“Likely used it,” Risley said, thinking on the spot, “Been a while out here—practice.”

“Yeah,” Grant said.

Dorcia grabbed Risley’s hand, led him back to the main trail.

“Where’s camp?” Dorcia asked as she lifted her backpack, “You both lack pockets—not that I mind.”

Risley snorted, appreciated that they were both naked.

“A few miles,” Grant said, “We’ve got food.”

“Like we came as empty handed as you,” Maev said.

“We packed lightly,” Risley explained.

“We couldn’t tell,” Maev said, “Two naked boys—why trust you?”

“Maev, I’m going with them,” Dorcia said.

“And what would your father or grandfather—?” Maev started.

“They’d say jump on it,” Dorcia said, “Though, likely jealous. Still, how long are you two staying out here?”

“Third one is back at camp,” Risley said.

“Weeks, give or take,” Grant said, “Come along!”

Grant took the lead. Dorcia and Risley walked side by side, he was to her left. Maev waited a moment before she took up the rear.

“Don’t worry, I can’t get lost,” Maev said, “I can smell em.”

“It’s—” Dorcia sniffed “—richer yet authentic.”

“Likely haven’t cleaned zeir butts in weeks either,” Maev said, “Authentic, if you like.”

“As you’re both naked—there’s got to be a good story,” Dorcia said.

“Could ask you,” Risley said, his penis not yet ready to stiffen, though he wanted it to.

“Guess I grew a bit,” Dorcia said, “Uncomfortable when we left the trail–head, so I…well, nothing to worry about except for bears.”

“So she thought,” Maev said.

“Truth was, we kinda wanted to coming in,” Risley said, the extra flex in Grant’s buttocks and thighs hinted the truth being better, “Caught a little short because we got robbed when we first started.”

“They stole your clothes?” Maev said, “I’d head to 'ze police.”

“They were after money, gadgets,” Risley said, “Too many miles to simply run to the police, so best to simply push forward with our hike.”

“Not chase?” Maev said, “Your balls are small.”

Risley strained, forced out a bit of sludge, aware that she was watching his buttocks.

“You have a tail,” Maev said.

Grant laughed.

“Did you just—?” Dorcia started to asked.

“It’s commentary,” Grant said.

“We’ve been out here a while,” Risley said.

“I don’t get it,” Dorcia said.

“It means…” Grant paused, spun around, “He was disgusted by her comment.”

Risley, Dorcia, and Maev stopped as well.

“You’re both acting like savages,” Dorcia said.

“And you like it,” Grant said, “Watch my dick.”

They all watched it as Grant’s eyes and eyebrows moved. Grant’s eyes roamed toward Dorcia. His pink circumcised snake in front of his balls, beneath his wild pubic hair, began to slither as it grew, ratcheted upward as it stiffened.

“Nice tits,” Grant said, his hard cock jutting outward toward Dorcia, “And—aren’t you also supposed to have pubic hair?”

“She shaves regularly,” Maev said.

“Want to borrow this?” Grant said, “I…I want to take care of it.”

“You’re both being childish,” Dorcia said.

“I’m a boy and naked,” Grant said, “First time seeing—yeah, beauty right there.”

“He’s trying to use you,” Maev said.

“She’s naked,” Grant said as he stepped a bit closer to Dorcia, “Can I?”

“Umm…” Dorcia started.

“Why not?” Maev said, laced with sarcasm, “Become their bitch, their live sex doll.”

“Lets get moving,” Risley said.

Grant turned around as they continued walking, he walked to the right of Dorcia.

“A boy gave his rib for a girl and they were happy,” Dorcia said, “Yes, they were naked and happy for it. This isn’t like riding my brother’s pole, it’s better, and, judging by their looks, I need not polish the pearl as I have two willing, submissive, servants by my side.”

“Risley’s will come back,” Grant said, “Takes a bit.”

“You have been out here a while,” Dorcia said.

“Yep,” Risley said, “Not trading it for the world.”

“Watch this,” Grant said.

Dorcia and Risley glanced, the golden jet started from his hard cock, and he peed as they kept walking; it arched forward to make a squiggly line on the ground.

“So, you’re just—” Dorcia said.

“It’s not like I’ve got pants to pull down,” Grant said, “Pissing while walking—don’t miss a beat.”

“Efficient,” Maev said.

“Don’t think I could,” Dorcia said.

“Yes you can,” Grant said.

“No, girls pee differently,” Dorcia said.

“You still pee,” Grant said, “Baby girls piss their diapers, so you can do it too—not that we’re pressuring.”

“I’d stand in line to watch,” Risley said. He was curious.

“I’m seeing plenty,” Maev said.

“You said you had a brother,” Risley said as he tried to change the topic.

“Two,” Dorcia said, “Danny, a year older, and Dillon a year younger. After theater camp, I had a question or two, and Danny helped.”

“So you and him—?” Grant asked.

“He showed me how it went,” Dorcia said, “He cares about me, like a brother should.”

“There’s more than one way—” Risley started, thinking of the Penis Handbook.

“How would ou—?” Maev started to ask.

“Lemme show you,” Grant said, “Hold her pack.”

Risley sensed Grant taking an opportunity to show off their forbidden knowledge, so he lifted Dorcia’s pack.

“Hands and knees,” Grant said to Dorcia, “Different positions can be cool.”

Dorcia lowered herself to be on her hands and knees on the soft mossy ground next to the trail. Grant knelt behind her, his knees pressed into the dirt.

“Called animal or doggy style,” Grant said.

Grant’s fingers pulled the two halves apart before he threaded the pinkness of his circumcised penis into it, and he pushed his hard shaft into Dorcia. Her hands gripped a bit onto the moss while Grant began to drill. His hips flexed for a few moments before he held it in. Grant pulled it out, the softening tip oozed a bit of off–white.

“Different,” Dorcia said, as she stood up, “Not complete—”

“Boys are easier and have lower standards,” Maev said.

“Oh,” Grant said. Risley understood the sense of disappointment, of not completing the task.

“Likely his first—lost his virginity on you,” Maev said, “I know because boys boast.”

Maev took off her pack, Grant put it on.

“Women always have to finish ze projects of boys.” Maev said as she knelt before Dorcia. Maev’s fingers inserted themselves beneath the apex, and massaged. “Mules for stimulation.”

Maev massaged the folds around Dorcia’s vulva, caressed in and out. Dorcia’s fingers replaced Maev’s, massaged into her vulva as Risley and Grant watched. Maev’s right moved to stimulate Dorcia’s clitoris, while her left massaged the nipples. Dorcia’s eyes dropped, aimed toward Risley.

Risley’s penis became aware as it hung below his terse pubic hair, too soon to return to a full erection, simple loitered in a partially engorged semi–flaccid state. Grant’s flesh twitched, his hands beneath his armpits.

Dorcia relaxed, stumbled. Grant stepped forward, put both hands upon her shoulders, stabilized her balance. As Grant’s left hand touched her right breast, sprinkles of gold dripped from her petals. Grant stepped back, both him and Risley watched as the golden shower dropped from her petals.

“You want piss,” Maev said to Grant.

“I didn’t mean—” Grant started as he backed up.

“Women are not cattle,” Maev said.

“I’m sorry,” Grant said, “Didn’t mean—”

“Bet you are,” Maev snapped.

“I’m fine with it,” Dorcia said as her eyes aimed toward Risley, “Seriously, I am.”

Risley put Dorcia’s backpack onto his back, felt heavier than the three of theirs, still, he carried it. He held his hand out to Dorcia, and they returned to their walk. Grant and Maev followed a short distance behind.

“No, he doesn’t know about—you know,” Risley said to Dorcia, “After this—I’d sponsor him.”

“Keep the numbers small,” Dorcia said.

“We’ve had weeks,” Risley said, “Running into you—bit of a shock, but I should’ve expected it.”

“Not that I was planning—Grampa sprung this on me but let me choose anywhere without needing a passport,” Dorcia said, “Your idea stuck in my head. Actually running into you…”

“It’s…” Risley glanced at those nipples, the breasts, and the mole, his erection began to return, stiffened a bit slower. “So your Grampa’s not far behind?”

“Still in West Virginia,” Dorcia said, “That’s where I’m from.”

“Portland,” Risley said, “I sucked, didn’t I?”

“I’ve heard of worse first times,” Dorcia said, “It was your first time, right?”

“Yeah,” Risley replied.

“Well, you’re obviously comfortable with it,” Dorcia said, “Handsome as you are, so we’ve got something to work with. Don’t sweat it.”

“Thanks,” Risley said, “We’ll have competition—Ifor’s there at camp, you know him as…” he whispered “BaldBlue.”

“Why’s he not with you?” Dorcia asked.

“Twisted his ankle or something,” Risley said, “Resting up.”

They walked and walked.

“Your weiner’s been flopping around this whole time?” Dorcia asked.

“Yep,” Risley said, “It’s what they do when not tied up behind underwear.”

“Danny’s does, of course,” Dorcia said, “I have to share a bedroom with him.”

“Thought that was—?” Risley asked.

“Like West Virginia pays attention to that,” Dorcia said, “Home’s too crowded to do otherwise.”

They came to the meadow.

“Where’s your latrine?” Maev asked.

“Anywhere,” Grant said, “Though by the fire’s best. Come”

Grant and Risley took the lead. Ahead, a warm low burning fire, Ifor sitting cross–legged, his penis began to stiffen.

“Aw, butts!” Ifor said.

“Got even more!” Risley announced.

“New packs?” Ifor asked as he stood, used the crutch for support, the hard erection jutted out from beneath his pubic hair, firm.

“They asked for more,” Grant said, “Yours will have to do.”

“Three?” Maev asked.

“How’s his butt?” Grant asked.

“Umm…good,” Maev said, “I guess.”

Ifor turned around, wagged into a partial squat, and chunks fell from his anus onto the ground.

“Zis just a big circus to you!” Maev exclaimed, “Find three buffoons—”

“Relax,” Grant said.

“I need to…I need to clear my head.” Maev turned around, walked back toward the trail.

“What’s up with her?” Risley asked.

“Boys make her uncomfortable,” Dorcia said, “You’re all great—she’s just has a problem with boys, any boy.”

Ifor hopped fast, crossed the meadow, followed Maev.

“Here,” Grant said, pointed to the burning fire, not too far away from Ifor’s mess.

Dorcia sat down. Risley sat to her right, while Grant sat across from them.

“She’s from Poland, you see,” Dorcia said, “She wasn’t expecting to become a foreign exchange student—it apparently happened so fast that she never applied. I barely knew of her in school, however, we were sent to the same camp this summer—we became good friends there. After that…um…my grandfather suddenly decided to send us on a trip, but cheap. Of course, we wanted to get as far away from West Virginia as we could.”

Risley understood the lie there, omitting the knowledge from their online chats.

“Theater camp, right?” Risley said, “Ifor’s into that, but his old man despises it, says it makes him a fag.”

Dorcia’s right fingers curled around Risley’s hard shaft, felt the ridge running from the tip to his scrotum.

“You never really answered why—” Dorcia said, “I mean, why the urge to hike instead of…”

“A misunderstanding—” Grant tapped his hard erection. “Weird to let this hang with girls.”

“I don’t mind,” Dorcia said, smile on her face, her right hand exploring Risley’s testicles, and her eyes made no attempt to avert her interest in Grant’s stiff glory between his legs.

“Cody would scream—straight and narrow,” Grant said, “He went to camp, he wanted to do that.”

“We read the brochure,” Risley said, “Realized we had options.”

“Too bad you didn’t know us sooner,” Grant said, “Cool to have you along. You and her…um…coaching us to become better.”

Risley snorted.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Dorcia said, “Before camp, Maev—her middle name, don’t call her by her first. I didn’t know her despite her being at my school as the foreign exchange. At camp, Maev and I were in the same cabin, a half–dozen or so each. After two weeks, we were laughing, having written some shows only to be corrected by the staff to help express our faith better, and performing them. I know them better than my own sister, and at the end, Maev…confided?”

Grant stretched, hands behind his head, hair in his armpits fanned out, the hard erection moved a bit upward in the flickering of the light.

“You and her?” Grant asked. He spread his legs showed the pouch of his balls beneath the stiff shaft.

“Sort of happened,” Dorcia said, “I slipped in the mud after our final performance. We had a party, with boys, and I had to clean up. Dunno if Maev wanted to clean up or avoid the boys, but she pulled out a vibrator in the shower, double ended, and we shared it.”

“Really?” Grant asked.

For a moment, Risley glanced at him, before they returned to the round lumps of breasts on her chest.

“He thinks your boobs are doing the talking,” Grant said.

Risley growled, Dorcia laughed.

“You enjoyed it?” Grant asked.

“I faked my ignorance with Danny,” Dorcia said, “See, we’ve shared a bedroom for time immortal, so I’ve seen him play with himself—he tries to hide it. But Maev left me confused, so I used Danny to sort it out—therapeutic.”

“I’ll give you all the _therapy_ you need,” Grant joked.

“Um…don’t think so,” Dorcia said, “You need help.” She wagged Risley’s hard erection.

Risley laughed, Grant glared.

“Finally got a cock fan,” Risley said to Grant.

“You’ve played with it!” Grant snapped.

“And she’s your first fan,” Risley said.

Risley caught Dorcia’s glance.

“He goaded me!” Risley said as his dick softened in her fingers, “Funny what peer pressure—”

“She’s a lesbian?” Grant asked. Risley nearly kissed Grant for that change in topic.

“What?!” Dorcia stammered, her voice rose in anger, her eyes glared at Grant.

“She seemed uncomfortable,” Grant said, “I’m sorry, thought—”

“She’s got a boyfriend back in Poland,” Dorcia said, “Looking at you makes her pine for him.”

Risley pulled his soft penis upward, the yellow stream flowed out high, sizzled as it hit the coals. It sputtered for a moment and stopped.

“That was—” Dorcia started.

“Pathetic,” Grant said, “Bit more and it could’ve splashed back on you!”

“All I hear is talk,” Risley said.

Grant’s cock sputtered for a moment, a pale yellow stream flowed, barely made the ring of rocks around the fire.

“Alas, wasn’t ready,” Grant said, “Next time.”

Dorcia felt Risley’s soft beard, the pubic hair.

“You’re—animals,” Dorcia said.

“What?” Risley asked.

“Finest kind,” Grant replied, “Never gone hiking like this—don’t regret it. No, I wish we had done this before. Lighter packs, not having to piss behind the bush, and a lie detector on him being horny.”

“It got _you_!” Risley replied.

“Where’s this vibrator?” Grant asked.

“Doubt she’d share—you’ve got dicks,” Dorcia said.

“For you and Maev,” Grant said.

“You’re going to give her …. therapy, right?” Risley asked, his fingers tangled with Dorcia’s feeling his penis.

“You want it too,” Grant said, “But I was concerned for their feelings.”

“Of course you are,” Risley said, “More likely you want to watch.”

“Perverts,” Dorcia said.

“Yes,” Grant said, smiling.

“So, what’s wrong with you and her?” Risley asked.

“My family wouldn’t approve,” Dorcia said.

“Then don’t tell your family,” Risley said, “Mine wouldn’t approve of any of this.”

“It’s up to her,” Dorcia said, “But be prepared—she might want dirt on you.”

“Whatever,” Grant said.

“Promise,” Dorcia said.

“Alright,” Risley said.

Grant nodded.

“Just no anal,” Risley said, “Looking at his butt is one thing, playing with it is another.”

“Agreed,” Dorcia said.

Risley sat there as her hand kept exploring his genitals, sizing up his balls, and it felt better than alright to let her continue.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ifor followed as fast as he could, tried to ignore the pain. He barely knew Maev, but his instincts had flared, her hand griped around the object. Ifor gritted his teeth, bore the soreness, understood any noise would only spook her further, and kept a short distance behind her. Off the trail, along the edge of the ridge, the steep incline worse than what Ifor had climbed days earlier, a ledge that had well over a hundred foot drop beneath it.

Maev turned right, faced the wilds beneath her, trembled, pocket knife in her right hand. Ifor caught the glint of steel, as she began to carve into her left wrist. Blood matched the plastic casing but smeared onto the blade. Ifor tried to ignore the complaining ankle as he ran. With a push from the side, Ifor knocked her off balance, and the knife tumbled over the edge.

“I—you—” Maev started as Ifor began to turn her back.

“Why?” Ifor asked as he firmly gripped her left wrist with his left hand, held it tight, sealing up her wound, “Why?”

“You misunderstand,” Maev said.

“My father’s a cop!” Ifor demanded, “WHY?!”

Maev began to struggle, to twist. Ifor kept his grip on her left wrist, while his right reached around. His chest against her back, rump of her jeans pressed against his soft dick, while his right arm reached around, held tight against her chest until she stopped the struggle. Ifor’s right hand gripped her right wrist.

“I’m not letting you give up,” Ifor said loudly, “Understand? I’m not having it—that’d be a very permanent mistake.”

“You don’t know me,” Maev said.

“I’m hanging onto you,” Ifor said in a firm manner, aware his flesh was starting to stiffen against her, “Call me a friend. Why?”

“She’s got you three to look after her,” Maev said.

“Why not you too?” Ifor asked.

“You’d just turn me in,” Maev said.

“You think I’m carrying a phone?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Maev said, “Dare I ask?”

“Nothing hidden—too uncomfortable,” Ifor said.

Ifor kept his grip tight and close, knew only the most insensitive of people wouldn’t feel his erection against the back of her pants,.

“You just want—” Maev said.

“I’m thinking about you!” Ifor said, knew the excitement was getting to him, “I’m not letting go—sorry to upset you. We don’t have to go back, not right away, just come with me. My penis is non–hostile.”

“Interesting statement,” Maev said.

Ifor felt her relax as she took his motions and stepped back from the ledge. As Ifor loosened his grip on her right side, she wrenched and tried to break his grip on her wrist. Ifor’s right hand grabbed her left shoulder.

“Don’t struggle with me,” Ifor said, “So, you’re from—?”

“Poland,” Maev said, “Twisting my arm.”

“Better for you to hate me and live,” Ifor said, “You’re…I’m guessing fifteen, sixteen?”

“Fifteen,” Maev said.

“Can we talk?” Ifor said, “Come.”

Ifor didn’t let go, but pushed a bit as he brought her to walk. Ifor hopped a bit, tried to avoid his left foot, tolerated the pain as he escorted her down the gentle side of the ridge, across the trail, to the edge of the stream that fed their little lake. An occasional shout from Grant and Risley came from the distance. Ifor, however, sat him and Maev on a log, dangled his feet into the muddy bank, and his left hand kept its grip on her wrist.

“Serious on not letting me go?” Maev asked.

“I won’t buy that you’re alright,” Ifor said, “Why should I have let you continue up there?”

“I…” Maev drifted off.

Ifor lifted his left hand from her left wrist, the long scab already forming, and dried blood coated his hand.

“Your blood!” Ifor said, “God gave that to you—don’t spill it in vain. What about your family?”

“If you can call it that,” Maev said, “Until recently, Dad…he’s like Mom, gone.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ifor said, “Can’t comprehend, not really.”

“Bit honest,” Maev said, “Dad said that Mom had a chance to hold me when I was born, but she died—not interested.”

Ifor glanced down, his soft penis was pouring out his golden yellow onto the bank beneath them.

“Sorry,” Ifor said, “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Maev stammered.

“I’ve…I’ve simply stopped worrying about it,” Ifor said, “Been…” Ifor counted on his fingers “…it’s the sixteenth?”

“Nineteenth,” Maev said.

“Guess I lost count,” Ifor said, “Think of it like this, you’re more important than a potty break, being naked for a month and I don’t give a damn if it’s seen.”

“A month?” Maev asked, “Out here?”

“Almost,” Ifor said as his erection returned, “It’s not like we had a lot of notice, we skipped some stupid camp to hike. Between poor planning and being robbed as our pilot tried to kill us…having my dick swing out is small potatoes. By now, I like it out—suppose it’ll be awkward to dress when we leave the woods to go home.”

“I’m not interested,” Maev said.

“Please,” Ifor said, “Don’t find that knife.”

“I meant your dick,” Maev said, “I’m not usual, I’m into other girls.”

Ifor glanced down, foreskin retracted and his pink glans exposed on the hard cock between his legs.

“Oh—OH,” Ifor said, “That’s not a reason for a knife.”

“It doesn’t help,” Maev said, “It contributed to my Dad’s death.”

“How?” Ifor asked.

“I’ve spoken up before, for women’s rights,” Maev said, “Usually just in church. He stole a bite, maybe two, of my dessert—I remember it like it was yesterday. He said it was delicious but threw the rest onto the floor, maybe he tasted the poison meant for me. Dorren blames me, of course.”

“Lesbian or not, you seem wonderful,” Ifor said, “I’ll treat you properly and so will the clowns. It’d be nice to have some new faces for a while.”

“Even if I’m not naked?” Maev asked.

“Certainly,” Ifor said, “You’ll be different, but different is good. And your other—does she know?”

“I haven’t told her,” Maev said.

“Aw, you’re working on it,” Ifor said, “Look, hang in there. I want you around.”

“Um, you won’t tell them,” Maev said, “About this?”

“Depends on you,” Ifor said, “Still, sounds like they’re having fun, join them, and get your cut cleaned up.”

Ifor stood up, kept his weight on his right foot as held his hand out, and pulled her up.

“Even naked, I’ll treat you like a lady.

Maev smiled, but glanced down. His erection jutted out from beneath his fluffy brown pubic hair.

“I’m not hiding it,” Ifor said, “But I’m not using it either.”

Ifor held her left hand for a couple of moments until she walked with him. His ankle flared up, the pain became unbearable as he tried to avoid it. His dick flopped as it softened fast.

“You’re limping,” Maev said.

“Twisted my ankle yesterday,” Ifor said, “Other side.”

Maev moved to Ifor’s left, and he held on, used her for support as he hopped; the evening had begun to set in.

“You—” Maev asked.

“You’re worth it,” Ifor said.

Ifor pointed as they crossed the meadow, limped past Risley and Grant and Dorcia around the low burning fire, to the backpacks. Ifor gripped her hand after he lifted the crutch off his backpack, used it beneath his left arm.

“Oh,” Dorcia said.

“It’s not…” Ifor dug into his backpack, pulled out a blue plastic box, opened it.

Ifor noticed the whites of Grant’s eyes first, before Risley’s and Dorcia’s, aimed at him.

“She was carving with her knife when she tripped,” Ifor said, “Luckily the bleeding’s stopped.

Maev glared at Ifor. Ifor, however, took an antiseptic wipe, applied it to her arm before he wrapped gauze around it. He secured it with a bit of tape before he kissed it.

“Mom does it for luck,” Ifor said, “Not sure…”

“Seems a bit serious,” Dorcia said as she approached, her nipples erect, “We could leave—”

“And spoil a nice hike?” Maev asked.

“We’re going back to see if we can find that knife,” Ifor said, “Dropped it.”

Grant and Risley stood.

“We’ll manage,” Ifor said before he swallowed a couple of aspirin.

“Sure,” Grant said, “You’ll manage.”

“Good luck!” Risley said.

Ifor used the crutch, limped as Maev walked, back across the meadow.

“They—” Maev started.

“Let them use their imaginations,” Ifor said, “It’ll cause them to leave us alone as I want us to keep talking.”

“Thank you,” Maev said, “You choose your words carefully.”

“Any further and you’re carrying me back,” Ifor said as he leaned back against a tree, a crook in the trunk sufficient to take the weight off his throbbing ankle. “You gave yourself a serious cut and your knife’s gone—we’d be fools to cover that up. I’ll try to search for the knife, later. If I do find it and you’re in Portland, I’ll return it.”

“You’re confident that you had the right idea,” Maev said.

Ifor grabbed her hands, held them.

“My Dad’s a cop, even got me a spot in the academy without asking me!” Ifor said, “Last Halloween, I won’t forget. I was riding along with him on a call. We got there too late, when a girl, from school, her blood soaked the sheets, the carpet. I’ve seen it, the aftermath, and I know it’s wrong to even try. But I also understand that we’re frail humans, susceptible to the demons to try. “

“You don’t know me,” Maev said.

“Maybe your Dad tasted that dessert because he thought it might have been poisoned,” Ifor said, “Maybe he sacrificed himself because he thought you were worth it? I don’t know because I wasn’t there. What I do think is that he’s smiling right now, because I saved you, because you are worth it, to him, to us. I gave you the chance to reconsider, to make changes so that your life is worth living. I…”

Ifor stopped, his eyes focused for a moment on the points beneath the green T–shirt, felt the surge and the arousal. Maev’s head went down, her eyes glanced down. Ifor’s penis elongated, stiffened, until it was a hard erection; he pulled back the foreskin, showed the pink glans, let it flare for a moment.

“And I’m happy to have saved you—I think I did,” Ifor said, “I don’t hide it, not anymore.”

Maev shook her head.

“Don’t knock it,” Ifor said, “It likes you too.”

Maev snorted.

“Do they think you’re into girls at home?” Ifor asked.

“Not sure,” Maev said, “Maybe they do.”

“Change one,” Ifor said, “If you don’t have a boyfriend, claim me.”

“I said—” Maev started.

“Didn’t say we had to do it,” Ifor said, “I’ve seen…I know what happens when a person’s suspected of not being right…there. Second…I need to…” Ifor’s right hand slipped, curled around his stiff shaft.

“You’re going to—?” Maev asked, “Play—?”

“Better than aspirin and I prefer company,” Ifor said as his hand began to stroke, “Watch and memorize, so when you lie about a boyfriend, you at least know what it’s supposed to do.”

Ifor channeled the attention as he vigorously worked his hard dick. His left fingers teased his testicles, and he began to feel the idealization of his balls, his stiff dick, his pubic hair, hanging there for her viewing pleasure. She was watching, made Ifor self–aware of them, before he felt the sudden quench. Pulsations and his off–white semen shot out of his slit. A moment later, Ifor released, stood back up, his penis kept dripping.

“Surprised you didn’t have me—” Maev started.

“Unless you’re offering to bring this into you,” Ifor said, “Trust me to honor consent.”

Ifor grabbed the crutch, returned to standing. They returned to the meadow.

“How’d—?” Grant started.

Maev, however, bolted for Dorcia. Dorcia had her legs spread, a skinny object flexing as it protruded from her female apex. Maev snatched it.

“Ask before using 'ze Mrs!” Maev said.

“Oh, I thought—” Dorcia said.

“You thought wrong,” Maev said.

Maev held up the double ended dildo, wiggling as it vibrated.

“Um…” Ifor asked.

“She made a commentary…about you!” Grant said to Ifor.

“Yeah, sure,” Ifor said.

“Did you even think to put up 'ze tent?” Maev asked.

“Sorry,” Dorcia said.

“What about you?” Maev asked, her eyes at Grant, Risley, and Ifor.

“The stars!” Grant snapped.

“Serious?” Maev asked.

“It’s either a ground cloth or a tarp,” Ifor said, “It’ll do.”

Ifor went to his backpack, pulled out the reusable tape, and limped over to the sleeping bag. He laid down. Ifor brought his left knee to his chest, wrapped the tape back around the ankle, before he restored it. Ifor tried to sleep, until Grant slid in. Ifor waited for Risley, but instead watched Dorcia lay a pink fluffy sleeping bag down. Risley crawled into that one with her.

“Wonder how long they’ll last?” Grant asked Ifor.

“As long as we want them to, I suppose,” Ifor replied.

Ifor felt the fatigue and tender ankle overtake him; he fell to sleep.


	16. Vibrations

“We’ve used the heat scope,” Irwin said, “No sign of them south of the mountain to that camp.”

“And the tracker?”

“It was supposed to be a fast one until you put a stop to it,” Irwin said, “And they left their phones in the box—unexpected. We need good FLIR.”

“No, that scope would’ve picked them up. If it can pick up a hare, it would’ve seen them—naked by your description.”

“What do you plan to do?” Irwin asked.

“They’re already dead, by the elements. Portland is sending up more assistance, let them search, let them find their remains, leave satisfied. The longer Portland takes, the better—oh, the donations are bonkers on this one, worth a mint!”

Lovell heard the knock at the cabin door.

“What?” Lovell snapped from his bed.

“Sleeping well?” asked the familiar man with the heavy frame, Sgt. Spencer Piper entered the cabin.

“Spencer!” Lovell said, “I was trying—”

“I see that,” Spencer said, “Like they’ve got a lot of guest cabins—I get the other bunk?”

“If you must,” Lovell said.

“We’ll find them,” Spencer said, “You’ve got my promise on that.”

“Something doesn’t make sense,” Lovell said, the fatigue overwhelming, “Explain in the morning.”

Lovell went back to sleep.

Monday, July 20th

Risley lathered his fingers in the soap in the lake, worked around Ifor’s anus.

“So you and Maev?” Risley asked.

“We talked!” Ifor said.

Pfffpt!

Risley’s left fingers worked Ifor’s testicles dangling below the hard erection while his right fingers probed inward and found the familiar lump.

“Not too much,” Ifor said, “Want to save it for…them.”

“Gotcha,” Risley remarked, “Enough to build it up for Maev.”

“She’s not into that,” Ifor said, “Heard Dorcia got it on with you before you and Grant made it to camp.”

Risley scooped the cool water up, dumped along Ifor’s butt crack.

“Think you can manage,” Risley said as he washed his own fingers in the water.

Ifor took the soap, worked the rest of his skin, while Risley left the water. Risley went for and walked along the log partially out over the water, to where the collapsible fishing pole was resting against a limb.

“Thought you were going to cast it!” Risley said.

Ifor came out of the water, hopped a bit as he walked along the log.

“We were out there!” Ifor said, “One bad step onto the hook and—”

“Got it,” Risley said as he moved the pole backward in his grip before he swung forward. The hook with the pebble tied as a weight, flew out into the water. Risley sat down at the end of the log, his feet dangled into the water.

“So Dorcia walked up and demanded you have sex with her?” Ifor asked as he sat down behind Risley.

Risley felt the stiff erection touch his back as Ifor leaned in. Hands wrapped around, Ifor rested his chin against Risley’s shoulder. Risley knew what Ifor was up to, the eyes that focused downward, the fingers that stimulated Risley’s penis until it stiffened.

“Less than a mile from the trail–head and she stripped,” Risley said, “She’s been naked for days.”

“But not Maev?” Ifor asked.

“They came up when my back was turned, taking a dump—you know,” Risley said, “Guess Dorcia still liked what she saw, tried my dick out, and…”

“Quite bold to have sex with a stranger,” Ifor said.

“She’s not a stranger,” Risley said, “She’s SprinterWV, from chat.”

“What?!” Ifor stammered, relaxing his grip on Risley’s stiff erection.

“My fault,” Risley said, “When we were planning….I told her our plans.”

“Leave a map for our parents?” Ifor stammered.

“Just her,” Risley said, “Wasn’t expecting…guess she decided to try her luck. Here she is.”

“Does Grant know?” Ifor asked.

“Haven’t told him,” Risley said, “As far as he’s concerned, I fucked the first naked girl that came my way.”

“We had naked girls at the Bible Study,” Ifor said.

“I know,” Risley said, “Wonder what their plans are, can we keep them?”

“Truly, the most important question,” Ifor said, “And can we bring them home with us?”

“Imagine that at the airport!” Risley said, “We’d tell our folks that camp went great—and those letters Cody’s writing will have NO mention of girlfriends.”

“So is she the one that’s supposed to be marrying her cousin?” Ifor asked.

“Maybe I could marry her first,” Risley said, “Save her.”

“Okay Mom, I met a girl at camp, I forged Dad’s signature and we got married,” Ifor said, “How was your summer?”

Risley laughed.

* * *

“Spencer!” Alyce exclaimed.

“Good morning Ma’am,” Spencer said.

“Portland hasn’t forgotten us,” Lovell said.

“Should’ve seen Captain Sefton threatening a lottery to see who came,” Spencer said, “Everybody wants to be here to help…but we can’t simply abandon our posts.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said.

“Marcia should be getting onto a plane today, be here tonight,” Spencer said.

“That came through?” Lovell asked.

“Now, Lovell, tell me what the fuck is going on around here!” Spencer demanded.

“Alyce—save us some breakfast in the dining hall,” Lovell said, “Find Cody if you must.”

Lovell and Spencer headed up the service road.

“Feels like hell paid us a visit,” Lovell said as he began to explain.

“Got Cody’s report?” Spencer said, “Forward that to Donald, see if he can make heads or tails—”

“Thought you said—” Lovell started.

“Give him credit,” Spencer said, “He can do a lot from Portland.”

A bird chirped.

“You’re technically the point here,” Spencer said, “How do we proceed?”

“It hinges on whether Cody is being truthful or not,” Lovell said, “If Cody’s lying, a search of the camp or nearby should prove adequate. If he’s being truthful, I don’t know where the hell to start looking if we don’t have a clue apart from Ted Stevens a month ago.”

“Lets do what we’re supposed to do,” Spencer said, “Ask questions.”

“Agreed,” Lovell said, “Anything to rescue the boys from what’s got to be pure torment.”

* * *

“Got a match?” Dorcia asked as she and Grant were squatting around the fire pit.

“Don’t need one,” Grant said. A stick, and he moved the ash to show a dull ember.

“That’s enough?” Dorcia asked.

Grant’s eyes drifted to Dorcia’s crotch, with frills to either side of that vertical line, the hard point cast a small shadow.

“So smooth,” Grant said, aware his own flesh firmed up between his legs.

“Fire?” Dorcia asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Grant said. He ignored her snickers, brought wood shavings to the dull red. He blew and blew, until the wood shavings caught flame.

“Cool,” Dorcia said.

“Saves a match,” Grant said, “Though we’re out—so it’s flint and steel.”

Grant put on some larger twigs and kindling, blew. Maev, in a shirt and shorts, left the tent with a roll of toilet paper and a trowel; she walked out of sight.

“Not as fast,” Dorcia said.

“You’d have to dig a hole and all,” Grant said as his eyes returned to the tits and vulva of Dorcia, “Need help?”

“You’ve already got a fire pit—oh!” Dorcia laughed, her eyes glanced downward, “You’re—”

“Grant,” Grant said, “Grant Jasper Barnet, a golden claw of the Wild Trekkers. You’re the first girl I’ve seen naked, and—fine response?” Grant twisted hips, showed his stiff and hard circumcised erection to her, fingered his loose balls beneath. “Yeah, you’re pretty.”

“You just show it off?” Dorcia asked.

Grant moved the pot of water next to the fire.

“Not ready for it, but it can warm it up a bit,” Grant said as he tossed on more kindling. “But yeah, I’d love to see you—you know—”

“Aw,” Dorcia asked, “Like this?”

Grant watched. She pulled the two halves apart, the jet of the yellow stream splashed against the rocks. His hard dick twitched in a dry orgasm.

“So you do like this,” Dorcia said.

“Weeks with my friends—it’s a welcome change,” Grant said, “Trick with going naked is to try to not think about it—tough when my boner’s showing. But we’ve had time to adjust, and we’d rather show our boners than hide them—it’s like why should I be ashamed for being a boy? I’d rather be naked. You obviously get it, maybe she will too.”

“She was stressed when we left, still is,” Dorcia said, “Exposing myself helped her relax, a bit, and—I told her it’s why I stripped, for her. Me, not the first time I’ve been in the wilderness naked. However, I don’t think she’s all that comfortable, naked or not naked.”

“Maybe that’ll change,” Grant said.

Maev returned with her trowel and most of her toilet paper. A moment later, Risley and Ifor came across the meadow, carrying one fish each.

“Good, breakfast,” Grant stated, still squatting on his feet, the hard erection with its firm pink glans jutting out between his legs.

“Fish?” Maev asked.

“Poached trout,” Grant said, “Well, can’t complain about it being frozen on some boat for five months.”

“I’m vegan,” Maev said.

“Pagen?” Grant asked.

“She’s not big into anything from an animal,” Dorcia said, “While we’ve got food, this sounds better.”

“Uh…” Maev groaned as she returned to her tent.

“Happy camper?” Risley asked.

Ifor walked over to the tent.

“She wants to be left alone,” Dorcia said toward Ifor.

Ifor poked his head into the tent.

“It’s alright,” Maev said, loudly.

Ifor entered the tent and closed the zipper.

“He just—” Dorcia stammered, “He—”

“I don’t know,” Risley said as he scratched his head.

“Maybe she just was waiting for the right bloke?” Grant asked.

“It’s funny—she’s got no interest in boys,” Dorcia said.

“Why do we care?” Risley said, setting the fish down onto the small frying pan..

“You get it?” Grant said, “Spill—”

“No!” Risley said, “We came on this hike to have an adventure or two, I’m not scuttling theirs if they choose to do so.”

“Thank you,” Dorcia said.

…

“I was planning to change,” Maev whispered as Ifor sat his butt onto the pink sleeping bag. Ifor crossed his legs. “Make it quick.”

“If you wanted a quick end, why bother with the hiking?” Ifor replied as he put his arms onto his knees, “You seemed stressed—thought you wanted to talk.”

“You want something else,” Maev whispered, her eyes aimed at his crotch, where his hard erection reached upward.

“You matter more than whether it’s up or down,” Ifor whispered, “Though, it likes you too.”

“You seemed keen to let it, as your friend put it, seltzer,” Maev whispered, she touched his slit that was peeking between the edges of his foreskin, “Her sleeping bag.”

Ifor shrugged.

“It shoots forward,” Ifor whispered, both of his hands flat against the side of his hard dick jutting out from beneath his fluffy light brown pubic hair, “Your sleeping bag’s at risk.”

“Not helping,” Maev whispered.

“Got the day,” Ifor whispered, “Lake or something?”

“I need to change,” Maev replied.

“Back door,” Ifor whispered as he spotted the zipper, “They need never know.”

“You’re still up,” Maev whispered.

“I promise to not use it on you—unless you change your mind, of course,” Ifor whispered, “I’m not hiding it—you’ll see the ups and downs.”

“Um…” Maev started.

Ifor moved over toward the back of the small tent, his hips in the air and became aware that his vent was wide open.

Pfffpt! Pfffpt!

A quick glance, Ifor understood, with her staring at his butt, she had witnessed his anus belch.

“Come,” Ifor whispered as he opened the back zipper, “Awkwardness makes it fun.”

Ifor turned his head back to the opening when he felt the large vibration between the flesh of his buttocks.

“Is this fun?” Maev asked.

Ifor cranked his head. Maev held a vibrator near his butt, she grinned.

“Worried about my dick?” Ifor whispered as he returned to glance out the open back door, “It’s a good direction, so keep low and they won’t see you.”

Maev’s head came up next to his, before she moved past, naked. Her bare buttocks mooned him before she paused and aimed toward Ifor’s face.

Pfffpt!

Ifor followed.

“A tent’s a lousy way to hide—” Maev started.

“Use me,” Ifor said as he stood, “My butt’s known to them.”

“You’d like that,” Maev said, her eyes glared at his hard erection jutting outward.

“Stay low and move,” Ifor whispered.

Maev stayed low, crouched. Ifor kept the slower pace, followed, until they reached the trail. Ifor turned around, gave two thumbs up toward Grant. Grant returned the gesture.

“You had to—” Maev started.

“Come,” Ifor said as he pulled her up.

“Your ankle?” Maev asked.

“There’s a bench, might’ve seen it,” Ifor said as they walked, slightly past the junction; one arrow pointed toward the trailhead. “About a century old or so.”

They came to the double planked bench, two long supports separated by a six inch gap. Ifor swung his leg, straddled the planks, his balls dangled between them on the lumber, motioned. Maev straddled, faced Ifor. Ifor took a moment, studied her small breasts, nipples out, and the rug of blonde hair between her legs.

“You promised,” Maev said.

“And I’ll keep it,” Ifor said, “A moment.” He pushed his stiff erection down, as it squirted yellow out onto the ground beneath them.

“You had to,” Maev snapped.

“Potty break’s no longer a reason to stop talking,” Ifor said, before he exhaled, “Before our hike, only the shower saw me naked. Now, I know that Risley’s foreskin—this—” he tugged on his “leaves a nickel’s worth of area exposed, including the tip. Grant’s balls lay more horizontally—” he held his hand flat “—so the end of his dick hangs around and beneath them. Mine—my balls are smaller than either of theirs, not a lot, but we can tell. We’ve all had our own insecurities in letting the imperfections show, and I’m still conscious of mine.”

“You studied them,” Maev stated.

“Kinda forced to, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Ifor said, “Keep saying we didn’t have a choice, but we did. Could’ve taken the camp we were supposed to go to, the one we’re ditching, to go hiking. Grant blames the pilot for pilfering our gear, but we showed up with only one change of clothes—we stripped to test it out, when the pilot attacked us, robbed us of what wasn’t already in our backpacks. Hundreds of miles to anywhere, well, we walked it to here so far.”

“Could come out with us,” Maev said.

“No,” Ifor said, “Camp’s not over until next month—so we can’t go showing up, they’d wonder who we are. No, we’re going to wait until we’re supposed to return, take those flights home.”

“Will you put that away!” Maev asked, her eyes glared at his hard cock.

“Only one way,” Ifor said as he gripped.

He slipped his fingers across his foreskin, began to move it back and forth as he stroked. Ifor studied into the carpet, made out the point, when he felt the spasms. As Maev watched, his dick launched its rapid series of volleys, his off–white oozed and dribbled onto the ground.

“You had to!” Maev stammered.

“It’ll go down!” Ifor said, his hands pointed to his softening dick, “See? That’s how it works.”

“We’re cattle!” Maev stammered.

“You’re more than cattle,” Ifor said, “Perhaps that’s a mistake.”

“What?” Maev asked.

“We’re the best animal on Earth,” Ifor said, “Made in the Lord’s image—if you believe that. We can outsmart them all, or at least the smarter ones let us think that.”

Maev chuckled.

“We elevate our minds, our ideas, but we’re ignoring our flesh,” Ifor said, “My penis, your tits, they help define us, we should embrace, not shame them.”

“Interesting point of view,” Maev said.

“Maybe I’m just shooting my mouth off,” Ifor said, “It’s been a month that we’ve survived out here, in our birthday suits. Our clothes don’t make us who we are, it’s our skin and everything inside that matters.”

“Given this some thought?” Maev asked.

“Been forced to—my dick’s as much a part of me as my fingers,” Ifor said as he lifted them up, “I’ve had to accept myself for who I am. Risley and Grant have too. I have no regrets about it.”

“You seem comfortable in it,” Maev said.

“How long have you known you prefer girls over guys?” Ifor asked.

“Think Dad knew,” Maev said, “Dorren tried slandering, insisting that I was as I am, pushing me to date girls, but stopped me from dating boys. Given her rants, you’d think she’d appreciate me trying to date boys—which I tried behind her back. I thought about it, I think she wanted me killed sooner.”

“Shouldn’t be forced,” Ifor said.

“Says the one who pushed to have me streak to serve his fantasies,” Maev said.

“Embrace the flesh—that’s what I’m trying to say,” Ifor said, “Feel like that, go back and get dressed.”

“No,” she said.

“I pop a boner every time I see Risley with one,” Ifor said.

“You’re not—?” Maev started.

“Dunno,” Ifor said, “I haven’t figured myself out, but you make me hard too.”

“You fantasize over them?” Maev asked.

“Usually with Risley,” Ifor said, “He shrugs it off, we all do.”

“Bump intentionally?” Maev said, “Your butts…holes don’t seem damaged.”

“Oh…OH!” Ifor said, “No…no way. It’s disgusting to even think about that.”

“Something else?” Maev said, “Sorry…if it’s too personal, I’d understand.”

“Risley and I turned it into a game I play with him,” Ifor said, “We’ll hold on, or give hand jobs. He does it as a prank, but I like it.”

“You’re alright with this?” Maev asked.

“Gets sticky,” Ifor said, “But yes.”

“Do you want to go further?” Maev asked, “Not the butt—other stuff?”

“I’d like to,” Ifor said, “However, they’re my friends, first. I don’t want that to change. I don’t want them hesitating to rescue me, or to decline my rescue of them. Nor should they find out about my…interest.”

“It’s good to be interested in ones friends,” Maev said.

“Except this…janitorial services might get involved,” Ifor said.

“Pardon?” Maev asked.

“Police slang, sorry,” Ifor said, “When they can’t solve a problem, they call in—legal technicalities get ignored and people vanish. Sounds clean, but it’s not.”

“I see why you’re not wanting to advertise,” Maev said,

“But my dick’s hanging out, it’s advertising,” Ifor said, “I think Grant understands, Risley doesn’t.”

“I’ve gone in with Dorcia, not sure she comprehends either,” Maev said, “I know she went naked for me, but like you, got hooked. You’re the first that’s managed to put me at ease about it.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Ifor said, scratched his head, as he felt the relaxation.

Pfffpt!

Ifor smelled it, felt the bowels move, heard the droppings hit the ground beneath him. A glance between his legs, the brown turds laid there.

“You just—” Maev started, “Wherever you please!”

“Another game with Ris—stopped caring,” Ifor said, “Dorcia has figured it out, the lesbian part.”

“She—” Maev stammered.

“She cares about you, and so do I—we barely met!” Ifor said, “Guess nudity does loosen the tongue.”

“I—it didn’t occur to me,” Maev said.

“It’s not like a boy can lie about his attractions,” Ifor said as he pointed to his soft dick.

“Which is quite a few things to you,” Maev said.

“I’ve grown to like it naked,” Ifor said, “Suppose it’ll be a shock when I get home.”

“Did I understand you right?” Maev said, “You’re skipping a camp for this?”

“It’s not like I signed up for it,” Ifor said, “Just seemed to happen.”

She gripped his shoulders, her eyes focused on his baby blues.

“Who signed you up for it?” she asked.

“Dad claimed it was some scholarship from the union,” Ifor said.

“I hope you live to regret it—regret skipping, I mean,” Maev said.

Ifor raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t apply to be a foreign exchange student,” Maev said, “I had that fatal cake analyzed and it was poisoned—inside of a week, I was in West Virginia. Neither I nor Dorcia applied to that theater camp, yet we were on the bus days after we argued with the teacher about the Bible. After camp, we romped in the hay, bumped into her grandfather screwing her younger sister, and we were on the plane the next morning—Dorcia chose here. Ifor, things do not _just_ happen in this world, ever.”

“You—” Ifor started.

“A reeducation camp from the sounds of it because you think outside the box,” Maev said, “Enjoy your hike—and I’m sincerely hoping I’m wrong, but by your statements, you’ll be in peril once you return home.”

“Me?” Ifor asked.

“I can’t say as I don’t know,” Maev said, “It’s rather suspicious to me, that’s all.”

“I mean, four of us were covered by the invite,” Ifor said, “Cody’s covering for our absence now, we hired locals to fill in. Lots of people go, it’s a high priced place.”

“But cheap enough for the police union to sponsor a scholarship to an all–summer camp?” Maev said, “Mind you, I’m guessing here, but if I were in their shoes, having a camp of mixed would be great, to let your fellow campers help, though they wouldn’t even be aware of it. Somebody hates the way one of you thinks, and they’re close enough to know about it. We’re fighting the same battle.”

“Battle?” Ifor asked.

“Against those that oppress,” Maev said, “You’re definitely meant to be controlled—and to skip—you’re going to piss that somebody off. Keep speculation to a minimum, for the spread of distrust is also a favorite tactic.”

“You sound like you’re experienced in this,” Ifor said.

“That cake, that cake was meant for me,” Maev said, “Dorren’s an overbearing witch that showed one face to Dad, but another to me. Dad thought I was jealous, because he couldn’t see her for the jackal that she was, but it also wasn’t her that tried to kill me.”

“You’re making me feel like I should leave this wilderness right now,” Ifor said.

“Don’t!” Maev said, “That only makes it come sooner. Hopefully that pilot was mere coincidence. I say you should finish this hike, as you three planned, don’t think you’ll regret that.”

“You said—” Ifor started.

“About skipping camp, not the hike,” Maev said.

Ifor returned her smile.

“I think you’re safe here,” Maev said, “For now.”

“We have come across wildlife,” Ifor said.

“At least you know what the bear wants,” Maev replied.

“We had one particularly close encounter,” Ifor said.

Ifor explained the incident.

“I thought it metaphor,” Maev said, while laughing. “So your Dad’s a cop?”

“Yes,” Ifor said, “They sponsor my Wild Trekker club, so we ride along from time to time. Though they also try to recruit us—Dad’s signed me up.”

“But not you,” Maev said as Ifor’s erection began to return.

“Dad conscripted me,” Ifor said, “Laws are clear, it’s his choice, not mine, so I’m not allowed to turn it down, not allowed to walk away—I’m required to become a pig.”

“Shame,” Maev said, “Hope this adventure mellows you a bit.”

Ifor smiled at her.

“Figure yourself out, stay true to it, and remember where your loyalties lay,” Maev said, “My Dad’s most important lesson.”

“Thank you,” Ifor said.

They kept talking.

* * *

Evening had already set in, the sky began to dim.

“So, one of the arguments for circumcision is boys not keeping it clean,” Ifor said, from a near squat near the edge of the lake. Maev stood over him. “But that’s bogus—it’s easy! Lemme show you.”

Ifor pulled back his foreskin with his left, while his right soapy fingers worked beneath it.

“That’s cut off?” Maev asked, “I see Grant—”

“Lots of churches push it and Hospitals make money,” Ifor said as he cleaned it, “Luckily, my Dad apparently blew the fund for me at the horse track. I could kiss that horse for losing.”

Ifor stood, felt the coolness of his pink glans exposed.

“Owe me dinner,” Maev said.

“All we got is fish,” Ifor said, “Some berries or nuts here or there.”

Ifor felt the soreness in his ankle, bearable as they returned to the meadow. Dorcia dropped her pan as she turned toward them; her butt toward the low fire in the pit.

“How do you do it?” Dorcia asked Ifor, “She seemed—”

“Wish I knew the tricks of his tongue,” Risley said.

Risley’s erection formed as he reached from behind Dorcia, teased her nipples, and put his tongue to her right earlobe. Risley licked and Dorcia giggled.

“Save any fish?” Ifor asked.

“You’ve been gone all day,” Risley said, “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“We got hungry,” Grant said.

“I’ll spare a meal,” Maev said.

“Thank you,” Ifor said as he stood with his back toward the fire, felt the heat on his buttocks.

Maev put a pot onto a small stove, added noodles.

“Bit more sodium than I’d like,” Maev said, “It’ll do.”

“How’d you get her to strip?” Grant whispered to Ifor.

“Be nice to her,” Ifor said, “Think you can manage?”

“Shove it,” Grant snapped.

“That’s meat free,” Dorcia said to Ifor.

“Catch a fish?” Ifor asked.

“Can’t die if it’s under–cooked,” Maev said as she drained the noodles.

Maev added broccoli, peppers, and tofu. She topped it off with a vegan teriyaki sauce, and gave Ifor a spork as she brought it to him by the fire.

“I think the fish would’ve been better,” Risley said.

“It’s something to break the fast,” Ifor said as he scooped. He brought it to his lips, tasted the peppers. “Not bad—I think. Chicken would’ve been better, still palatable.”

“Not a ringing endorsement,” Maev said.

“To the contrary,” Ifor said, “It’s better than expected. I’m kinda of the mindset to think vegan means broccoli, nothing but broccoli.”

“There’s more to it,” Maev said.

“I know,” Ifor said, “Thank you for sharing.”

“Odds are a dozen to one he’s kissing up,” Grant said to Risley.

Maev scooped next. Ifor and her alternated as they consumed the pot.

“Not dead,” Risley said.

“That’s the spirit,” Ifor replied.

“Butts toward me,” Dorcia announced.

Grant spun around, showed his to her.

“Got a better idea for fun,” Maev said.

“What?” Grant asked.

Ifor caught Grant’s eyes, all of them watched Maev’s butt in the air as she scrambled to reach into her tent. Ifor’s dick joined Grant’s in firming up. Maev came back out with a dildo vibrator in her hand.

“I don’t feel like sorting truth from fiction,” Maev said, “Up for dare?”

“What did you have in mind?” Risley asked.

“Are you sure?” Dorcia asked.

“We’re here to have fun, right?” Maev said, as she grabbed the small frying pan. “All over here, same side.”

Maev set the pan onto the ground, shimmed it with twigs. She removed the small fake rubber scrotum from the vibrator and laid the pink phallic device into the pan. She sat on the log with Dorcia. “Ifor—other one.”

“Huh—?” Ifor started.

“We need even odds,” Maev said as she fiddled with the fake rubber scrotum.

Ifor moved and sat between Grant and Risley on the one log; each scrotum hung against the bark. Maev and Dorcia were sitting on the other. Firepit to the side.

“The rules are simple, we spin this—” Maev held the vibrator back up “—twice for a pair that indulges each other.”

“So if it’s me and Risley—you’re saying I have to kiss his dick?” Grant asked.

“Possible, do you want to?” Maev said, “We’ll…we’ll negotiate something. Two of you will…squirt, the third who holds back—we’ll spin it one last time, and you finish in either me or Dorcia.”

“You’re—” Dorcia started.

“Who said we’re not up for fun,” Maev said.

“A dirty mind I’d have expected from my brother,” Dorcia said, “Just what did you two talk about?”

“I’m in,” Risley said.

“Me too,” Grant said.

“And me,” Ifor said.

“Um…sure,” Dorcia said.

“The first round is foreplay,” Maev said, “Above the shoulders, at least ten seconds and a kiss for at least five seconds. Ten spins for this round.”

Maev spun the vibrator, it pointed at Risley.

“Last one spins,” Maev said.

Risley trembled slightly, spun it, and it pointed to Dorcia.

“I think I’m beginning to like this game,” Risley said, turning his head toward Dorcia.

“Just remember, you have to last,” Grant said, “Who am I kidding—go for gusto.”

“Don’t hide the dick,” Maev said, “We need to verify…things.”

Risley rose to meet Dorcia. He brought his tongue against her neck, and he licked for several seconds. He brought his mouth against her mouth, his tongue touched hers. Risley sat back down and his penis began to stiffen.

“Dorcia will spin,” Maev said, “As Risley initiated, that’s now the precedent—she will initiate it onto the next winner.”

Dorcia spun, and it pointed to Grant. She reached to Grant, and Grant took her hand to rise. She started by kissing his forehead. Her tongue went down his nose, where she licked off a booger. Her hands rubbed his shoulders while her lips planted themselves onto his, her tongue touched his. Dorcia sat down.

Grant spun the vibrator, it pointed to Ifor.

“Um…” Grant stuttered.

“I’m man enough,” Ifor said as he stood up.

Grant rubbed Ifor’s shoulders, and planted his lips onto Ifor’s.

“Ooo—yeah!” Risley shouted.

Grant finished his kiss, and used both hands to flip Risley off.

“Manners,” Dorcia said, “I’ve kissed you too.”

Ifor spun the vibrator, it pointed to Maev.

Maev stood, and embraced Ifor. Ifor massaged her shoulders, and she brought her lips to his ears.

“Interesting game,” Ifor said.

“Never said it was random,” Maev whispered into his ear, “Trust me.”

Ifor kissed her, his tongue entered her mouth, and hers into his.

“That’s at least twenty seconds,” Grant said.

“Jealous?” Risley retorted.

Ifor sat down.

“Next, tongue on the nipples for twenty seconds, each nipple for at least five,” Maev said.

Maev spun the vibrator, it pointed to Dorcia. Dorcia stood up. Maev licked the breasts, she lapped on each one.

“Definitely a good game,” Risley said.

Dorcia spun to show Grant. Grant giggled as she licked his nipples. Grant’s spin landed at Risley.

Ifor chuckled, watched Grant lick Risley’s nipples.

“It’s not funny,” Risley said.

Risley spun it, the vibrator stopped spinning to point at Dorcia.

“Maybe it is,” Risley said.

Dorcia stood. Risley spent his time, nearly a minute, sucking upon her nipples as if he was breast feeding.

“As he’s the last to this round, we’ll go to Ifor,” Maev said, “After all, everyone ought to get their chance.”

“Agreed,” Grant said.

Ifor stood up, let Dorcia lick his nipples.

“Any disagreement to skip the anal round?” Maev asked.

“None,” Ifor said. Heeds shook in agreement.

“Okay, the final round—” Maev said as she glanced at their faces “—the time requirement starts at five seconds and increases every five spins. It’s oral, and your tongue must be on their genitals, even longer if the recipient pees as the time resets when they stop. If the recipient’s dick…ejaculates, right? Pull back so we can all witness it—the second one will end the round.”

“So if I draw Risley—” Grant started.

“Whether his dick goes into your mouth for this round is up to you,” Maev said, “However, the faster you make him cum, the better your odds of winning.”

Ifor spun the vibrator, it came to a halt pointing at Risley. Grant laughed and laughed.

“Not funny,” Risley said.

Risley slowly stood, while Ifor went down to his knees. No sooner had Ifor stuck his tongue to the fulcrum of Risley’s hard dick, when Risley started to pee. Grant laughed as the yellow stream flowed along Ifor’s tongue. Tangy and bitter, Ifor tasted it as it flowed into his mouth.

“I figured they might,” Maev said to Dorcia.

“Now that my evening leak is done, lets see who’s next,” Risley said as he stopped. Ifor kept his tongue on the slit for another five seconds before he sat back to the log. Risley spun the vibrator, it went to Dorcia. Risley dropped to his knees, placed his tongue onto the smooth folds of her lace, which ran the length of them.

“This is…” Dorcia let it be as Risley returned to the log.

Dorcia spun, and the vibrator aimed toward Grant.

“Lets see how this goes,” Grant said as he stood next to her.

Dorcia’s tongue ran the edge of the pink glans before it ran the ridge beneath his stiff erection.

“Enjoying it?” Risley asked.

Grant spun the vibrator, it stopped to point at Ifor.

“Him?” Grant muttered.

“Suck it up,” Ifor said as he stood.

Grant knelt, brought his tongue to the scrotum beneath the hard erection. Ifor felt it push inward.

“With the next spin, we’ll make it thirty seconds, or sixty after a piss,” Maev said, “And the penis must enter the mouth—make it pleasurable.”

“You—” Risley started.

“It’s no fun if we have to do this all night,” Maev replied. “Give it a hard spin.”

Risley grabbed Grant’s map from the backpack, he fiddled with the clock in the corner, while Ifor gave the vibrator a wild spin, it clanged as it repeatedly touched the edge of the pan. It stopped to point at Grant.

“I preferred her,” Grant said as he stood, “And I guarantee you I need to take a piss.”

Ifor understood the brilliance of Maev’s game as he knelt in front of Grant. Ifor had seen this hard erection all summer long, and now, he had cover to indulge himself. Ifor studied the wild pubic hair for a moment, inhaled the musky smell, before he brought his mouth over Grant’s firm flesh. Ifor felt the erection continue to slide along until the tip touched the back of his throat. Ifor’s tongue tasted as he licked and sucked—soapy residue, a bit of ripeness.

“Fifteen,” Risley announced, “Ten, five—”

Ifor felt the bitter geyser hit into the back of his throat.

“I warned you,” Grant said.

Ifor swallowed the warm beverage as fast as he could until he stopped feeling the flow.

“Let me know,” Risley stated.

“Still pissing hard,” Grant announced.

Ifor knew Grant to be lying, however, Ifor kept it up. Ifor’s fingers massaged into Grant’s testicles as the kept working Grant’s hard shaft. Grant stumbled and Ifor moved back.

“I said—” Risley started.

Ifor’s mouth cleared Grant’s hard cock as it began to squirt the off–white.

“He enjoyed it!” Grant said as he kept ejaculating.

“Ifor plays to win,” Risley said.

Grant spun the pink vibrator, and it pointed toward Dorcia. Grant’s softening cock dribbled as he knelt in front of her. Grant used his left fingers, spread apart the folds. His soft beard went against her skin as his tongue went into her. His right fingers rubbed her clitoris as the tongue explored.

“It’s been thirty,” Risley stated.

Grant continued.

“Let her next orgasm be with the victor,” Maev said as Dorcia began to stumble.

“Right,” Grant said, as he stopped.

Dorcia spun the phallic vibrator for it to stop toward Risley. Risley stood, his hard erection loitered. Dorcia wrapped her mouth around his stiff statue, her mouth sucked as the tongue moved.

“Time’s up,” Grant announced.

Dorcia removed her mouth, sat on the log. Risley spun, got Maev.

“Aw man,” Grant muttered.

Maev stood as Risley knelt. Risley’s soft beard mixed with her blonde pubic hair, his tongue rubbed the point of her clitoris.

“That was the fourth spin, the next one also gets thirty seconds,” Maev said, “After that, two minutes?”

“That’d about clinch it,” Grant said.

“I plan to win,” Risley said.

“Like you’re hoping to be next and suck Ifor?” Grant said.

“Not particularly,” Risley said, “It could always be you that sucks him.”

“I don’t mind losing if it’s into them,” Ifor said as he nodded toward the girls. It added cover to his desire that any one of them was acceptable.

“Me neither,” Risley said.

Dorcia’s eyes flickered between Risley and Ifor, before they focused on Grant.

“Touch them,” Dorcia said to Grant, “They’re both ready to…squirt.”

Maev spun the vibrator, it settled upon Ifor.

“It’s for a good cause,” Ifor said as he stood up.

Maev knelt, rested her tongue beneath Ifor’s stiff erection within her mouth, she kept it idle.

“Time,” Risley announced.

Maev pulled it off, Ifor’s hard erection remained.

“Two minutes on anybody and it’s toast,” Grant said.

Maev sat back down as Ifor reached into the pan. Ifor spun the vibrator as hard as he could, and it settled down to point at Risley.

“Oh,” Risley said as he stood up.

“If it weren’t for that Golden Claw, I’d run the clock fast,” Grant said.

“Thanks for the effort,” Risley said.

Ifor, though, studied the dark pubic hair, sniffed at the shaft. Both Risley’s testicles and glans were extra pink, the shaft twitched in anticipation. Ifor knew that Dorcia was correct, both were a single touch away. Ifor studied the stiffness, knew he was going in for the kill.

“You’ve already pissed,” Grant said to Risley.

Ifor felt the glans bump the roof of his mouth as it entered. His tongue felt up the retracted foreskin, hit the ridge beneath when Ifor felt the pulse. Ifor pushed back for the hard cock to sway as it began to pump. Risley’s slit surged, his hot lava pushed out fast, splattered across Ifor’s face.

“Only ten seconds?!” Grant stammered.

“Sorry,” Risley stammered as his penis kept drooling against Ifor’s cheek.

“You got me,” Ifor stated.

Risley chuckled as he sat. Ifor stood, his hard cock jutted outward toward Risley and Grant.

“Impervious!” Ifor announced, pointed to his stiff erection.

“Pure luck,” Grant said, “Spin to see who you’ll be impervious to.”

Ifor turned around, leaned over the pan, and spun. The dildo spun and spun, until it pointed to the left, toward the fire, toward her.

“My game, my rules,” Maev said, “Only fair.”

“If you’re doubting—” Ifor said.

“We’ll do it,” Maev said, “Me or you on the ground?”

“On the ground,” Grant said to Ifor.

Ifor laid with his back on the ground. She pushed his legs up toward his chest, and she squatted, her own legs intertwined, her face toward Ifor, and let his shaft pierce her veil. She grabbed the vibrator.

“That?” Ifor asked.

“It is a sex toy,” Maev said. She brought it toward his buttocks.

“It’s safer if you use your fingers,” Grant said, “Reach in.” He watched Maev’s fingers go toward the anus. “Now, feel for a walnut sized mass, through the skin, toward his cock—massage it.”

Maev did this, and flexed her hips to let his shaft slide against the folds of her carpeted vulva. Ifor felt the rush, the release, the spasms radiate throughout him. She pulled off, and bits of his off–white liquid oozed out of his softening penis, coated the skin.

“We’ll have to do this again tomorrow,” Grant said.

“No, not happening,” Maev said as she stood up, “While it was fun, it was also to show you what it’s like to give a blowjob.”

Ifor stood up.

“Sorry, this is where we have to talk about our feelings,” Ifor said, “Be back in a bit.”

Ifor and Maev walked across the meadow, and stood on the trail.

“We shouldn’t wander,” Ifor said.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Maev said, “You said—”

“It’s…hard to describe,” Ifor said, “Surprised it was you in the end.”

“Battery must be low,” Maev said, “I rigged it to go to Dorcia.”

“Sorry if I—” Ifor said, “I mean if you were harmed—”

“Like I said, my rules, my mistake,” Maev said, “I’m fine. You seem to care, but it’s tough not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and I can’t expect you to go on with nothing now, can I?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ifor said, “Though friendship is a good reward.”

“Sexually, I’d still rather do it with Dorcia,” Maev said, “But, I’ll let you be my vibrator.”

“Thanks, I suppose,” Ifor said, “Actually, I’ll accept it. If you ever need a boy for a date, I’m available for that.”

“I’m still—” Maev said.

“School dance, for instance,” Ifor said, “To everybody else, we’re a couple. And, as I lost my virginity to you, we are.”

“You’ve never done a girl before?” Maev asked.

“No,” Ifor said, “So unless you count the hand jobs, first encounter was tonight.”

Ifor urinated as he stood there.

“You didn’t—” Maev said, “You could’ve—”

“Would’ve guaranteed myself to squirt in more than one way,” Ifor said, “No, I waited.”

* * *

Ifor reached around Grant the next morning as Grant cast the fishing lure back out onto the lake. Both on the log, Ifor’s erection threatened the crack, while his hands felt into Grant’s penis.

“You…you’re…” Grant said, “You gave me head last night.”

“Like it?” Ifor asked.

“And you sucked—you really sucked on it,” Grant said.

“So did you,” Ifor replied.

“Does it matter?” Grant asked.

“You deserved it,” Ifor said.

“Are you sure about yourself?” Grant said, “You liked it.”

“Didn’t say that,” Ifor said.

“You’re messed up,” Grant said.

“Really?” Ifor asked as he massaged into Grant’s balls, “We agreed to be open, and I’m trying. Yes, I did like it, been gnowing at me for weeks, it’s the part of me that forgave you for the snafu at the start, the part that decided your ass is alright, the part that wants you to play with my dick in our way–too–small of a sleeping bag. I love the girls, but I also like dicks, and I’m confused—need me to blow you, again?”

“Not necessary,” Grant said.

Ifor’s left fingers curled around Grant’s soft flesh, while his right felt the length of it. Ifor watched over Grant’s shoulder, as the flesh stiffened on Ifor’s digits.

“Too bad you had that incident with a knife,” Ifor said, as his index finger touched Grant’s pink glans, “Bit tough so it needs that extra attention—maybe that’s why it unloaded on me?”

“You’re full of it,” Grant said, “Though you did nail a lesbian, of all things.”

“Why pigeon hole everybody,” Ifor said, “She has beauty and so do you.”

Ifor’s fingers lightly touched along Grant’s hard shaft.

“Sucking on my ass?” Grant asked.

“I’m a Thespian, fun to role play,” Ifor said, “Though it’s tough to sort fact from fiction.”

Grant leaned back as he pulled on the fishing rod; tip of Ifor’s dick pressed against the upper bit of the crack.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Grant asked.

“You ask girls or boys and I’ve got no answer,” Ifor said as his fingers twiddled Grant’s pubic hair, “I get hard for you, I get hard for them, suppose the correct answer is both, that I love my friends in every way. You’re not disgusting in the least, even when you try to be. We came out here to find ourselves and I think I’m succeeding.”

Ifor squeezed slightly, felt the two lumps of flesh resting on the log as Grant reeled in a trout.

“Was different,” Grant said, “Nor am I pushing you away. Risley knows?”

“He’s still a bit more innocent,” Ifor said, “Not puncturing that—yet.”

Ifor knew it a sin, but held on anyways; he found Grant’s scruffy pubic hair reassuring as his found himself, grew comfortable with his sexuality.


	17. Shower

“Is Marcia settled in?” Lovell asked, he was standing over the map on his bed in the cabin.

“With Alyce now,” Spencer said, “We’ve questioned half the campers—nobody’s seen them outside of the airport.”

“I’m sure the answer’s right in front of me,” Lovell said.

“Get some sleep,” Spencer said, “Before I call Captain Sefton.”

“You wouldn’t—” Lovell started.

“Not if you get some sleep,” Spencer said.

Tuesday, July 21st

Cody ignored his pressing bladder as he spoke into his tablet.

“Another day in this Focus Cabin,” Cody said, “Maybe I’ll understand the true reason for this isolation.”

Chimes echoed through the trees.

“Morning assembly—I’ll skip of course,” Cody said, “Makes me a tad famished, but I can avoid them. Helga’s taken a liking, lets me eat in the odd hour. Instead, time for my shower—yesterday I managed two hours before anybody bothered me. Maybe I can get all the sin off me this time?”

Cody tapped on the tablet, locked it. Cody slipped his feet into his sandals beneath his blue jeans, slung the towel over the shoulder of his red T–shirt, and went outside. Thick brush obscured the several other focus cabins nestled below the short rough hill, a hill with a patch of boulders that went up to a flat of trees above, each boulder soaking in the sunshine that was eagerly trickling below onto him. Cody’s ankles flexed, and he walked along the short trail to the graveled service road.

Birds chirped and Cody wondered how many Adam must’ve heard in the garden of Eden. A few minutes later, he turned off the service road, to the wooden building, through the opening, onto its cement pad. Cody walked to the bench and put his towel up on the hook. He pulled his T–shirt off, folded it, and placed it onto the bench. Next, Cody folded dropped his blue jeans, folded them, and placed the shirt on top of the blue jeans. Finally, Cody lowered his white briefs, which left himself naked with his soft circumcised penis nestled tight within his golden brown pubic hair. Cody folded his white underwear, set them on the pile. He slipped his feet out of his sandals.

Cody walked barefooted onto the tiled floor without a roof above it. Green leaves of the trees above filtered some sunlight, across the green painted pipe holding an array of shower heads above, with nylon stockings suspending bars of soap and metal chains with large circular rings attached. Cody went to the one by the wall, stepped to the side before he pulled on the chain with his left hand. His right hand reached into the water pouring from above, felt as it went from cold to lukewarm, wondered if he’d tolerate the extra minutes before it went hot.

Cody was pushed and his buttocks cushioned him against the painted plywood wall. Cody caught her eyes as the brown haired girl pressed against his stomach with her left hand, while her right held the hunting knife whose flat side of the blade was against his left ball.

“Be a shame if something _happened_ here,” she said, applied a bit of pressure, he felt the edges of the blade against his scrotum.

Cody’s bladder did not cooperate, did not wait for him to perform his cleansing–out–his–sin ritual, instead, it released. He felt the shame, the embarrassment, as the gold began to drizzle before her eyes, and he peed in front of this girl several years younger than him. He recognized her, Risley’s younger sister, Marcia.

“Um…Marcia—I’m—” Cody started.

“Look everybody!” Marcia announced, “Cody’s pissing in the shower!”

Her eyes surveyed him, not only his scruffy pubic hair, but also his chest. While not athletic, it was flat up to his nipples.

“Quicker you answer, quicker I leave,” Marcia said, “Disappoint—you don’t need this, do you?” She moved the blade of the knife against his squirming penis as it began to elongate, still peeing.

“Please!” Cody pleaded, “It’s a BOYS shower!”

“Not for long,” Marcia said as she pressed the blade back to his scrotum, began to rotate it, to bring the edge of the blade against his skin, “At first I was going to thank you for helping him vanish, but now I want answers. Where is Risley?”

Cody felt the embarrassment, the shame, as she stared at his penis, stiffening.

“It’ll go faster if you talk,” Marcia said.

Two sharp points beneath the her green T–shirt on her chest, each one at the end of a blossoming tit on Risley’s not–quite–fourteen sister, a sister whose eyes focused on his hard erection, the metallic blade on it. It took Cody a moment to focus, the cold steel helped.

“Have you every talked him out of anything?” Cody asked, “I tried to dissuade—but how often do you not tattle on him?”

“Often,” Marcia admitted.

“Now, I’d like to take my shower,” Cody said, “It’s why I’m naked.”

“You like me?” Marcia asked, the blade pulled a couple of pubic hairs wrapped around his hard shaft.

“Can’t explain it,” Cody said, “It just does as the Lord commands it.”

“Bit awkward if others come along,” Marcia said, “Tell you what—talk, but keep showing me your dick so I know you’re speaking the truth. Do that and I’ll let you shower. Agreed?”

“Yes,” Cody said.

Marcia took several steps backward, moved the knife to behind her back.

“You wouldn’t deliberately kill your friends,” Marcia said.

“Um…thanks,” Cody said as he took the step forward, pulled on the handle.

“Clear why they’re called balls,” Marcia said, “Seen Risley’s—who hasn’t?”

Cody understood this shower was going to be both quick yet long as he stepped under the hot water. It was a communal shower, he’s seen others in there at the same time, they’ve seen him, it was an unspoken mutual agreement to avoid the sideways glances. Here, this girl was an audience of one keeping her eyes on him as he started with his forward leaning head.

“Risley’s got hair there too,” Marcia said, “His is darker, still fails to hide anything including the balls.”

“Please,” Cody pleaded.

“Then talk or I’ll keep reminding you that I’m seeing everything,” Marcia said, “Your dick’s different than his—he’s got skin that covers the pink end, but not the pee hole.”

“Lemme wash myself!” Cody snapped as the water poured from the base of his scrotum.

“Sure,” Marcia said, “I’m watching…and listening. Just tell me what you did with my brother, where did you bury him?”

“I didn’t bury him!” Cody said, “He’s not dead, not that I know of.”

“Disappointing me,” Marcia said, “Huh, your left ball is a bit lower than your right.”

“That’s not fair,” Cody replied, his hands began to move to shield.

“Do that and I cut, understood?” Marcia said, “They were excited to come—seems like a stupid summer camp to me.”

“All three thought the same,” Cody said as he began to lather himself up with soap, “Downright dreary about it—they tried talking me into that hike. See, they never set foot in this camp—they took off after we arrived in Anchorage.”

“I got this nice letter about how excited he was to be here,” Marcia said.

“Gordon wrote it with my help,” Cody said, “Risley’s my friend after all, didn’t seem a big deal to create the illusion that they were indeed here. It would have worked out if your Mom hadn’t shown up.”

Marcia crouched as Cody turned to his right. Her eyes studied the side profile of his hard cock.

“I’ve avoided Risley’s,” Marcia said, “Yours…cute, can I see it all?”

Marcia moved a bit behind him.

“Cute butt,” Marcia said, “Doesn’t hide your balls, does it?”

“It’s mine!” Cody snapped.

Cody felt the fingers squeeze near his tail bone, she came back to his front.

“What?!” Cody stammered.

“Got it,” Marcia said as she held it up, a black tick wiggled in her fingers before she dropped it above the drain.

“Your goal was to see me naked?” Cody asked.

“I wanted the truth and saw you enter,” Marcia said, “Care to be waterboarded instead?”

“Here!” Cody snapped as he thrust his hips forward, brought the tip of his hard dick a quarter of an inch from her nose, “See what you’re interested in?”

“Risley’s missing and my Mom’s a wreck!” Marcia said, “Got in very late last night, and oh, I heard rumors about YOU! I waited until she was busy, and came searching for you! I see you’re being a big DICK about it.”

“Got news for you,” Cody said as he rinsed, “I’m some weirdo for taking my shower naked—no shower suit for me.”

“I see, oh that I see,” Marcia said, a smirk and a grin on her face.

Cody went toward his bench, sandals on the floor, the white towel with blue and green stripes above, and a barren bench.

“Where—?” Cody asked.

“I thought about hiding the towel too,” Marcia said, “Be grateful.”

Cody grabbed the towel, dried himself.

“I do need my clothes,” Cody said, “I shouldn’t be seen naked by a girl, not before it’s time—”

“Oh, you think you’ve got credibility?” Marcia asked, “Give me the towel.”

Chimes rang through.

“They’re starting the first activity!” Cody snapped.

“Well, I could shout as I’m sure I’d be heard,” Marcia said, “Or wait for the others to stroll by—Here, Risley commanded me to—” She reached for the towel.

“Did not!” Cody snapped as he grabbed the towel back from her.

He slipped the sandals on, wrapped the towel as best as he could, though a large gap remained against his left thigh. Cody went to the opening for the building as Marcia slung her school pack onto one of her shoulders. A glance at the clear, and Cody walked out the small breezeway; fast and determined, he marched onto the service road. Marcia jogged to his left, slapped his hand, and yanked the towel from his hands.

“Clashed with your outfit,” Marcia said, “Which way?”

While Cody’s hands covered his balls; tip of his dick and his pubic hair showed as he ran.

“You fucking—” Cody started.

Snap!

Cody felt it, the tip of the towel as Marcia snapped it at him.

“Will you—?” Cody stammered, his hands moved to flip her off as he paused.

“Invitation accepted,” Marcia said, her eyes focused on his hard erection.

“You’re forcing me to be naked at Bible Camp,” Cody said, “It’s disgusting, it’s disgraceful, it’s humiliating, it’s reprehensible, and it’s illegal. It’s not appreciated.”

Cody took the trail to his focus cabin, Marcia followed.

…

Marcia came to the cabin, the small green focus cabin, as Cody took the step up, opened the door.

“You’re—” Cody started.

“You don’t understand!” Marcia said as she forced her way into the cabin behind him. “You don’t understand at all! I need to know everything and you’ve got to be naked—it’s the only way.”

“Why?” Cody asked as he turned around at the back, his hands tried to shield his stiff erection jutting out.

Marcia roved her eyes around the cramped cabin, took it all in. From the roof sloping the ceiling down to the mattress on steel springs; a combination toilet sink that lacked any measure of privacy, the message was clear, to isolate the occupant.

“I heard this cabin called the cell,” Marcia said as she sat on the chair by the desk in the middle of the wall on the left, “Surprised there aren’t bars—”

“I got reassigned for my benefit, it’s not jail,” Cody said as he leaned against the back the mesh covered window with transparent slats, between the bed and bookshelf.

Despite his hands, Marcia spotted his firm dick stuck out, the triangle of brown pubic hair, and the nipples above.

“Do you trust me?” Marcia asked.

“Suppose so,” Cody said, though his right hand went for the red T–shirt on top of the bookshelf.

“STOP!” Marcia said, “I need to see it—your dick.”

“I’m—” Cody protested.

“For the love of God, of my brother, stop that!” Marcia said, “We’re supposed to talk and I need to see your dick as we do so.”

“Proverbs 9,” Cody stated.

“I need to save you, for their sake,” Marcia said, “Sit on the bed.”

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Cody said as he moved, sat. His balls dangled over the edge, he began to close his legs.

“OPEN! Spread 'em as boys do best!” Marcia said, “Sit on on your hands if you must.”

“I don’t get you,” Cody stated, “You’re insisting I show you—”

“The only thing sparing you,” Marcia said, as her left hand fiddled with the knife handle against her back, “Nobody is coming to your rescue, so trust me and keep that up.”

Marcia’s left hand moved from the knife’s handle toward her front. She reached toward the school pack at her feet, pulled out a tablet and a stylus.

“That’s Risley’s,” Cody said.

Marcia spotted the large elf near a couple of trees.

“Spilled… never mind why, mine stopped working,” Marcia said, “As he’s not needing his and Mom agreed I could use it until he returned. Besides, I understand it won’t complain about you.”

“You made me—” Cody started as she crossed her legs on the chair facing him.

“Don’t get your hopes up because I’m not planning to strip,” Marcia said, blue denim covered her legs down to her matching green socks. She placed the tablet on her lap, her right hand gripped the stylus, and her eyes turned to the slit at the tip of his hard erection. “Now—you said they didn’t want to attend camp.

“Yes, they glanced at the pamphlet and their minds were made up to not go,” Cody said, also glancing at the tablet, “This is weird—”

“Ignore it,” Marcia said, “So, they—?”

“They came up with this idea to hike instead of attend camp,” Cody said.

Cody blushed as he caught her eyes. Marcia studied the contours, the curves to the head, of his hard erection loitering there between his open legs, the thing that had kept her from acting more rash.

“Did you search for it? At home before you left?” Cody asked, “You know, Risley’s nice backcountry backpack? “

“What?” Marcia stammered as she put the stylus down. Her eyes fixated on the two lumps, Cody’s balls dangling over the edge.

“Our parents have suitcases!” Cody said, shifting his weight, “Risley could’ve used one…likely didn’t even need to ask. Yet, he took his backpack and shipped it. He blamed it on the luggage fees, but it was included in our premium airfare so long as you weren’t overweight. Has anybody thought to check where they shipped them to? If it were me, I’d start there.”

Marcia jotted this down.

“You’re taking notes?” Cody asked as he leaned over.

“Your dick, your dick!” Marcia snapped.

Cody straightened his posture, his erection still there, still jutted out toward her.

“Keep going,” Marcia said, “How much did you know about their hike?”

“Not much,” Cody said, “Once I turned it down, they kept the planning between them, while pestering me into covering their asses.”

“Doing a fine job—” Marcia started.

“Can that!” Cody snapped.

Marcia glanced at the uncombed brown pubic hair.

“Where were they starting their hike?” Marcia asked.

“Dunno,” Cody said, “They got somebody to fly them into the backcountry and pick them back up. I doubt they had a precise starting point, likely trusted the pilot to choose best.”

Marcia’s right hand intercepted his right hand moving, she held it.

“Keep it showing, trust me,” Marcia said.

“Alright, alright,” Cody muttered.

“When did you meet these others?” Marcia asked, “The one who made Risley seem intelligent?”

“At the airport in Anchorage, we all got together,” Cody said, “I mean, I was around as they met, I again tried to talk them out of it, but they were insistent. Last time I saw Grant, Ifor, or Risley, were them getting into a taxi cab because their plane was at some other field.”

Marcia kept writing this on the tablet.

“And…?” Marcia asked, tried to entice, before she stared at Cody’s stiff flesh, the edge of his glans flared and the dick twitched.

“Not much else to say,” Cody said, “Smart Risley came to camp. I helped them with a couple of letters so your parents weren’t any wiser—did she even suspect before dropping by?”

Marcia snorted. “No, apart from the pictures.”

“Figured they’d want a couple,” Cody said, “Know the effort it takes to make them bad?”

Marcia pressed her thumb onto the send button. A quick scan and the encryption icon flashed.

“You—” Cody started.

“I had to save your pretty hide,” Marcia said, “You didn’t spend hours in the back of a patrol car coming here, listening to them bragging about the enhanced interrogation and wagering on how you’d bite it.”

“They—?” Cody started.

“Hadn’t been buying your tales,” Marcia said, “I was mad myself by the end of it, thought I’d do it myself, but that penis, your penis—”

Cody blushed, his eyes spied hers as she kept her focus on it.

“I needed trust and it…” Marcia said, “Your weiner became it.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Cody asked.

“Only way to know you’re being honest,” Marcia said, “I know enough to know that’s true, a boy’s most honest when he’s naked. Your woody’s the only thing you’ve got going for you—it’s cute.”

“Can you—?” Cody demanded as he stood.

Snap!

A flash from the tablet, a close up of Cody’s hard cock showed on the screen.

“What—?!” Cody stammered.

“I…I don’t know—” Marcia said, “It shouldn’t—”

“You’re taking pictures!” Cody snapped.

“It’s Risley’s!” Marcia said as the desktop changed.

“He keyed it to a woody!” Cody exclaimed, “Of course—jail broken, that little snot.”

“I’m bringing this to them and coming right back,” Marcia said, “Please, stay naked, your dick’s the only thing helping me … and you.”

Marcia left the cabin, ran the trails, until she entered the main office, spotted them standing in the meeting room. She entered.

“Hi there,” said Spencer.

“It’s locked again!” Marcia exclaimed as she glanced at the tablet.

“What’s the matter?” Lovell asked.

“It’s Risley’s,” Marcia explained, “You see, mine’s busted so I borrowed his. After I was done questioning Cody—he was…erm..fresh from the shower. It was an accident, but it unlocked into some of Risley’s stuff. Seemed important, considering—”

“Do you remember how you unlocked it?” Lovell asked.

Marcia thought quick.

“It used his…Cody called it a…” Marcia started before she dropped into a whisper, “Woody.”

“What did you see?” Spencer asked, “On the tablet?”

“Might’ve been plans,” Marcia said.

“We’ll send it to Anchorage,” Lovell said as he wrapped the tablet into a plastic evidence bag. “Thank you.”

Marcia walked out of the room, but paused in front of Keaton.

“Can I borrow a tablet?” Marcia asked.

“Um…sure,” Keaton said as he crossed to the back shelf.

Marcia carried the new tablet with a large Christian Cross on the back, out the door.

…

Marcia returned to the small green Focus Cabin and entered.

“Back already?” Cody asked.

Cody was cross–legged on the bed, his soft penis loitered over his testicles, still naked.

“It’s not a small camp,” Marcia said as she sat on the other end of the bed.

She also sat cross–legged, faced Cody. Both heads in danger of banging against the rafters, her eyes focused for a moment on the wide triangle of his pubic hair. Her eyes drifted up, stared at the brown eyes staring back.

“Thank you for…staying naked,” Marcia said, “Wasn’t certain you would.”

“You’re acting weird,” Cody said, his eyes kept drifting down before he jerked them back up.

“Airplanes make for lousy naps,” Marcia said, “I heard the chatter, you’re a monster that deserves to be cast down despite Sgt. Ulverston’s insistence that spilling your blood won’t help. So I stalked you from this cabin to the shower—realized it’d be the best place…”

Marcia reached behind her back, pulled out the hunting knife, set it on the duvet between them. Cody lifted it, felt the point of the long blade.

“Sharp, but small,” Cody said.

“Enough to do damage,” Marcia said, “Sgt Piper woke the shop owner, didn’t want me unarmed with…”

“You held it against me,” Cody stated, “You threatened me with it!”

“I wanted to use it after getting a final confession from you,” Marcia said, “In the shower, your blood would wash down the drain.”

“What changed your mind?” Cody asked.

“You peed—I think that was it,” Marcia said as she picked up the knife, “I could’ve spun any tale, justified using this. Maybe it’s my brother calling you his friend, or Sgt. Ulverston’s words, but as I watched you piss, I decided to at least listen to your final words. You could’ve overpowered me, escaped, but you spoke.”

Cody’s chest moved as he took several breaths.

“Or I could’ve attacked you with that knife,” Cody said.

“And we’d know who the monster was,” Marcia said, “Not even Sgt. Ulverston could keep the wolves at bay. No, you’re not a monster, your dick proved that.”

“Thank you for believing me,” Cody said.

“Never said that,” Marcia said, “Your dick simply persuaded me to listen and give your story a chance to be heard.”

Chimes came through.

“Second activity period, right?” Marcia asked.

“Yes,” Cody replied.

“Mom wanted to do painting with me,” Marcia said, “Risley’s disappearance has rattled her a bit.”

“He _is_ her son,” Cody said, “Understandable.”

Marcia stood.

“One favor,” Marcia said.

“What is it?” Cody asked.

“Stay naked until I return,” Marcia said.

“Um,” Cody hesitated, “I guess so.”

Marcia secured her knife as she left the cabin. She had surprised herself with that demand, however, Cody’s naked body put her at ease.

* * *

Several hours later, Marcia carried the meal tray into the cabin, heard the water noise. She turned, and Cody was standing in front of the toilet, a golden stream of urine poured from the tip of his penis into the water. She set the tray down onto the desk and sat on the chair.

“You could’ve knocked,” Cody said as his stream stopped.

Marcia watched him tear off the bit of toilet paper, wipe his tip, before he threw it into the toilet. He flushed, before his eyes caught hers. Cody blushed and his dick stiffened in a salute.

“I’m still uncomfortable,” Cody said.

“I’m fine with it,” Marcia said.

“Right,” Cody said, his arms crossed.

Cody moved to the right side of the desk, his erection hovered above the wood, and he grabbed one of the cracker packets. Marcia sniffed at his hard flesh, with its fresh scent of urine. She was unsure why she was interested in his hard erection, but she was.

“Sure, it’s awkward,” Marcia said, “Sgt. Ulverston’s smart, he wants Ifor back. Everybody else—would rather lash you to the flag pole using your underwear as the noose.”

“Bible has something to say about being naked in front of a girl,” Cody stated.

“Imagine your bibles giving you a thousand papercuts to remove these—” her right index finger moved too far as she pointed. For a brief moment, her finger poked against his right testicle underneath the hard erection, and she pulled it back, fast. “Sorry.”

Marcia stared at the hairs on his scrotum, before she caught his grin from his face.

“They’re your best argument,” Marcia said, “Your dick made me listen, gave you an audience. You could quote a dozen verses why it’s wrong for me to see your penis, but I raise that by keeping the Bible from being used to administer your last rites.”

Cody stood there, tapped his dick against the wood.

“Suppose you’re not up for a walk around the lake?” Marcia asked, “Like that?”

“No,” Cody said, “Besides, with four campers found dead, I’m a bit of a pariah. Doubt the pope could clear my name.”

“Was hoping—” A chime came from Marcia’s pocket. “That’d be Mom, maybe they’ve found me a cabin—”

“Here would be alright,” Cody blurted, blushed.

“I thought—” Marcia started.

“You’re the first to pretend to believe me,” Cody said, “Makes you my only friend around here.”

“I’ll think about it,” Marcia said, unsure how the adults would react to know the truth.

Another chime and Marcia got up.

“Later,” Cody said.

Marcia left the cabin.

* * *

Evening had set in, the sky had dimmed, as Marcia approached the cabin. Now in shorts, she carried a duffel bag as stepped over the three used meal trays on the top step. She opened the door and entered the focus cabin. She dropped her duffel bag to the floor, before she viewed Cody. Cody, sitting on the chair by his desk, bibles open upon it, but still naked, and his brown eyes on her.

“You’re still—?” Marcia asked.

“You asked me to,” Cody replied.

“That was this morning,” Marcia said.

“And penance for my sins,” Cody said as he stood, “But I can change that for you.”

“You’re fine,” Marcia said. She glanced at him, a bit of modesty had already been eroded, as Cody didn’t shield, his balls hung below a partially aroused penis. “I appreciate the gesture.”

“It clearly means a lot to you,” Cody said, “As I had a hand in abetting their plan…and it seems to be helping you… I….”

“Down payment to forgiveness,” Marcia said.

“Alright,” Cody said as he stepped closer.

He trembled but pulled her into a hug, his penis came to rest on the hip of her shorts. Marcia reached around his ribs, put her right ear to the middle of his chest, listened to the heartbeat. She caught a blush as she felt the penis stiffen against her, pressed against her waistband, the tip of it slid onto her skin between the shorts and her shirt.

“See you ate,” Marcia said, to distract him, “How did you get those trays?”

She stood back. His hard cock jutted, but he remained idle.

“Linked to four murders?” Cody said, “Nobody 'cept you loitered. As they’re keen not to enter, it’s not like I had to open the door all the way either.”

Chimes rang through.

“Bedtime,” Cody said, “But unless you brought a sleeping bag—”

“Oh, wasn’t aware,” Marcia said.

Cody pressed down on the covers. “Should work for two.”

“Thank you,” Marcia said.

Cody took the two steps to the metal, pushed down on his hard erection with his left hand, and peed. Meanwhile, his right hand brought his toothbrush to his teeth and he began to brush.

“Suppose this has its advantages,” Marcia said as she watched the yellow pour out of his straight stiff shaft.

Cody wiped, moved to the bed, and pulled the covers back.

“Turn out the light and get in—after you brush,” Cody said.

“I brush in the morning,” Marcia said as she turned off the light.

Another chime.

“Close, though I doubt they’d check,” Cody said, “The Lord knows.”

Marcia stayed in her shirt and shorts as she climbed onto the bed, realized she was going over him, before she settled down, on Cody’s left, between him and the wall. She pulled the blankets over her, curled up behind him, rested her head on his outstretched left arm. She smelled the odor from his armpit, a reminder he was there. Her left hand drifted forward, rested on his pubic hair.

“You seemed keen on a number of Bible verses,” Marcia said.

“Also says to comfort those in need,” Cody said, “If my body’s comforting you, think the Lord prioritizes that over the others.

“Thank you,” she said.

She felt the fatigue catch her fast, her left hand wrapped itself around his hardness as if to hold on, as she drifted asleep.

* * *

“Cody Austin Vankleeck!” ordered Valerija, “You have been sentenced by the tribunal to die by wedgie.”

Cody heard the snap behind him as he stood in white briefs before the assembled teenagers of the camp.

“May God have mercy on your soul!” Valerija announced.

Cheers and applause came as Sgt. Lovell Ulverston pulled on the rope of the flagpole, and Cody soared into the air. His penis slipped out as the continued jerking pressure came between the fleshy cheeks of his buttocks. His penis peed and Cody woke up.

Surge after surge, his hard erection sent out a volley as the moonlight illuminated the cabin. His vertical dick kept pumping, her bare breasts pressed against his left arm, though his left hand was also feeling her left; her shirt missing, but a cup of her bra saddled against his pubic hair, collecting most of the seed pouring out of his penis.

Embarrassment and shame swept through Cody, as he realized he was sharing a bed with Risley’s half naked sister. Her fingers moved from his scrotum to the tip of his cock, where the sticky warm liqud was. A shiver from a slight draft, and an urge to turn. However, with her laying against him, Cody moved slow and carefully. He turned to his left, toward her, and reached for the blanket with his right hand. Her bra slipped between them as they came together, his damp penis to her belly, and her right hand secured the bra against her breast.

Cody hoped she wouldn’t notice his sticky mess on her. He right arm pulled a bit on her back, held her tight against him, and returned to sleep.

* * *

Cody woke in the morning with a knee coming to rest directly on his testicles. Cody gritted his teeth.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marcia said as she squirmed.

Cody watched as she held her pink bra against her chest, her head bumped a moment or two on the rafters of the sloped ceiling, before she turned her back toward him as she sat between his legs. Her hands worked the straps.

“Can you believe—cheap snaps,” Marcia grumbled.

His balls recovering, Cody failed to understand his own grin as he saw the right cup against her skin. They heard the first of the morning chimes.

“Pardon,” Cody said.

Cody lifted his left leg, pulled his knee to his chest as his left foot cleared her, and he rolled out of the bed. Nearly crouched on his feet, Cody grabbed the towel from the bookshelf and hung it over the back of the desk chair. He pulled the suitcase out from beneath the bed, grabbed a red T–shirt, and stood.

“Oh,” Marcia said.

“It’s the only time I can safely shower,” Cody said as he pulled the shirt on.

“Only need the towel,” Marcia replied, her eyes leveled beneath the red hem of the shirt at his flaccidness.

“It’s a BIBLE camp!” Cody said, “Emphasis on the word BIBLE! We got lucky yesterday that nobody saw us!”

Cody put on a pair of gray shorts, stepped into his black sandals, grabbed the towel, and left the cabin. His heart thumped as he tried to puzzle it out as he walked. A light breeze caught up in the leg openings reminded him that he had missed putting on a pair of underwear, still better than yesterday’s streak. He got to the building for the boys showers, entered, and stripped. He was halfway to the tile when the voice came.

“Good morning to you too,” Marcia said as she entered, in the same green T–shirt and blue jeans of the previous day.

“The girl’s shower is on the other side of the camp,” Cody said as he stood beneath a shower head, “You know, a boy side, and a girl side.”

Cody’s curiosity got to him, he glanced over as her hands worked her zipper.

“Sounds rather burdensome,” Marcia said as her jeans fell. Her eyes focused on him; she grinned as she pulled her shirt up and off. “I need one myself.”

“If we’re caught…” Cody’s tongue stopped, his eyes focused on the pink bra she pulled off. Nipples, the ones he’d felt against her, laid bare on reasonable breasts, not huge nor small.

“Quit blabbing.” Marcia said as she dropped her panties. Cody forced himself to study the shower head above as she moved for one of the handles. “Unless you’re determined to force the whole camp to hear us in here.”

“It’s not…” Cody closed his eyes for a moment, as the water poured over him, before his curiosity took over.

Cody’s eyes drifted fast, toward hers returning the favor. He tried thwarting himself, focused on her head as she lathered up, but the curves on her pulled his concentration. Stubble of her pubic hair, the delicate opening between her legs, and Cody felt the fast excitement. In the blink of an eye, his penis rose upward, became a stiff hard erection.

“Oh…” Marcia said as she moved to the shower head in front of Cody.

Two round curves of the breasts, the lines to the fingers showing him how her lace pulled apart to show a cavity beyond, and Cody understood temptation.

“Need help cleaning?” Marcia asked, her lathered hand rubbed against his erection.

“I can manage, thanks,” Cody said, feeling his spirituality taking over.

Cody rinsed and went over to the bench. Towel over his shoulder, feet into his sandals, clothes into his hands.

“Short shower,” Marcia said.

“I wonder why,” Cody snapped.

Cody left, walked fast, crossed his fingers. Cody focused on his hard dick as he hurried onto the trail from the service road. His emotions told him what the Lord was telling him, Marcia wasn’t merely interested in trust with his dick, she wanted more, she wanted him. He’ll have to message them, the office, to ask for her cabin assignment. He stepped out of his sandals as he entered the cabin, tossed the towel and clothes onto the suitcase. He sat on his desk chair, tapped at his tablet.

“Well, that was different,” Cody said, as the door opened.

Marcia pulled her shirt off as she entered, her bra already removed and in her hand as they dropped.

“What are—?” Cody started.

“Trust runs two ways,” Marcia said as she dropped her panties.

“The Bible—” Cody started as he stood, his hard flesh jutted outward.

“Says a lot about comfort,” Marcia said.

“And on mutual nudity,” Cody said.

“You want me to put those back on?” Marcia said, “I also needed to change.”

“I’m already on probation!” Cody snapped.

“You’ve made up your mind,” Marcia said as she sat in the chair, “You’re alright with this, right?”

Cody was at a loss to his next step, instead, his right hand fondled his balls.

“Bit of study?” Marcia said, “How much do you know about Eden?”

“What about it?” Cody asked, tickling himself.

“What type of serpent was it?” she asked, her fingers moved to touch the lace between her legs.

Cody watched her fingers delve inward, his own hand moved to the hard erection jutting out toward her.

“Black, maybe,” Cody said, trying to focus on that, however, his right hand worked his stiff dick.

Marcia leaned over, her nose touched the hairs on his scrotum, and she inhaled. She returned to sitting and leaned back. Her fingers caressed flaps of her skin as she kept her watch on his hard dick.

“There’s some speculation…” Cody’s right hand pulled and pushed, stroked his hard cock, the fingers worked across his glans with each pass.

“You’re…” Marcia muttered.

Cody glanced, a clear liquid appeared on his slit, before she let out a brief moan. Her eyes fixated, dilated for a moment, concentrated on his hard flesh inches away from her.

“You…” Cody started before he felt the first quiver.

His hand slowed, he trembled, and leaned forward to regain his balance. Hot and sticky, Cody’s first shot of white hit her neck, the rest splattered on her right breast with a new pendulum that swung from her nipple. Her eyes focused on his penis, oozing more as it dribbled in front of her.

“Oh—I’m so—” Cody started, his right thumb moved to partially cover his slit.

“Stop apologizing!” Marcia said, “It’s being naked, a good hazard.”

“I guess,” Cody said, “Never figured I’d—”

“Hold on,” she said as she grabbed his used towel. She wiped her breast before she handed it to him. “Here.”

Cody wiped his mess from himself.

“Before you change your mind,” Marcia said, “We promised to stay naked.”

“That’s before—” Cody started.

“Calm down,” Marcia said, “Maybe that was the serpent?”

“Hadn’t really considered that,” Cody said.

“Okay, I do need to figure out the age of the Earth,” Marcia said.

“That, I know!” Cody exclaimed.

Cody stood there as she kept stealing glances at his testicles, and he leaned over the desk to focus on the calculations of her tablet.

“Close,” Cody said, recognizing the bible passage, “Account for Noah’s lifespan.”

Cody kept this up until a dinging sound came from Cody’s tablet. Cody pressed “G” twice on the virtual keyboard, Marcia read the message.

“Sgt. Ulverston seems excited to see you,” Marcia said, “Suppose this means you’ll need to get dressed.”

Cody grabbed his red T–shirt and dressed; he left the cabin.


	18. Deep Search

“There goes Alyce with Marcia,” Spencer said as he glanced out the window from the meeting room adjacent to the main office.

“Helps her, helps them both,” Lovell said, both stood over the maps spread across the table, “Need to get Ifor—”

“I love Ifor too,” Spencer said to Lovell, “You need to face the fact that he’s gone.”

“There’s always hope until you’ve got none,” Lovell said as he fidgeted with the microphone clipped to the lapel.

Spencer breathed, sipped water.

“Alexis sent me to keep you grounded in reality because you’re a good cop,” Spenser said, “Be prepared—hundreds of square miles of searching has nixed any other theory. And a month—they’d have succumbed to any injury that’s kept them from returning to camp.”

“He seemed so eager to come.” Lovell turned, stared at the cold fireplace. “I made him come, I let him go, and I let him down. I failed.”

“Now you’re holding yourself to the impossible,” Spencer said, “I admit I’m reconsidering Rand’s desire to go to one near Tillamook. It’s only a week, but I’ll still yield because kids are persistent like that. A kid goes to camp—it’s reputable and you trust it, yet things can still happen. Its a risk we incur, a risk we can regret, but that does not make you a bad parent. You’ve been a good parent, involving yourself in your son’s life as he discovers himself—the Lord will reunite you, you can count on that. In the meanwhile, you still have time with Nessa.”

Lovell turned, almost glared at the partner he’s had for years.

“We’ve had the same training,” Lovell said, “I hope you never learn how hollow those words can be.”

“Sorry,” Spencer said, “I’ll look into some grub.” Spencer left the room.

Lovell sat down on the padded chair in the corner. He stared across the table, across the tablet still in the plastic bag, at the stone masonry of the fireplace, tried to make sense of it all. Spencer returned with a small tray of sandwiches and two cups of coffee. Spencer set one of the cups on the small end table next to Lovell, while Lovell tapped his fingers together.

“Still hasn’t picked it up?” Spencer asked as he went toward the plastic bag.

“Likely still in the air with one of the local bush pilots volunteering on the search,” Lovell said, “No, something’s eating, nagging at me, like we’re missing the obvious.”

“It not like that’ll be useful—” Spencer started.

“That could be the break we need, or the final voices of a son,” Lovell said, “Either way, we want it examined.”

“Your son’s caught up in this,” Spencer said.

“It’s for him that I’m trying to clear my head and think about this objectively,” Lovell said, “Been a cop since before he was born, he never knew my Dad, so lets be smart about this. Time to go back to the basics, everything is fair game until solid evidence rules contradicts it. Hear me out?”

“Alright,” Spencer said as he sat on the edge of the conference table. Spencer sipped on his styrofaom cup.

Lovell stood, focused his eyes on the black tablet in plastic, its elf back up.

“We have video surveillance proving that all four boys left the secure area at Ted Stevens on June twenty first,” Lovell said, “Unfortunately, most of the videos were backed up onto corrupted storage—forensics is still trying to recover it all.”

“We’re outside a week, rarely good for that,” Spencer said, “What else?”

“On July sixteenth, Alyce tried to locate her son,” Lovell said, “Seven campers unaccounted for along with three impostors. With me so far?”

“Yes,” Spencer said as he nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie.

“Apart from whatever that tablet contains,” Lovell said, “We have no facts concerning the current whereabouts of Ifor, Risley, or Grant. All we have are theories, some more likely than others.”

“Those counselors took them—” Spencer started.

“Conjecture,” Lovell said, eyes focused on Spencer’s, “Hazing happened and we’ve got four dead campers, along with complaints and three confessions. We do not have any hard evidence tying them to our missing boys, so it could be an unfortunate coincidence.”

“Speculating?” Spencer asked.

“For the other theory, we have Cody insisting on a hike,” Lovell said, “Also conjecture as we have no hard evidence proving or disproving—some circumstantial in that no campers remembers our boys here at camp. Cody, though, has been consistent, so I can believe that he’s not deliberately hiding the truth—rattled, perhaps.”

“So this tablet is his?” Spencer asked, holding his hand on top of the evidence bag.

“Cody has trouble with a four digit PIN,” Lovell said, “Whatever’s on there, it’s not from him.”

“He might have seen something and is hiding behind wishful thinking,” Spencer said.

“Conjecture but plausible,” Lovell said, “I’ve requested a search of my house for their backpacks—to give Cody the benefit of doubt. Given the amount of that shipping bill on my credit card statement, they did ship something heavy, and it was addressed to them, here. However, there’s no record of it showing up.”

“So, where are they?” Spencer asked.

“Either they came to camp or they skipped out,” Lovell said, “I’ve checked the retrofitted old school buses this camp uses to shuttle kids to and from the airport. Given the age requirements to operate a commercial driver license, those counselors did not do anything with a bus full of teenagers—they’d be overpowered and I’d expect one of the more cocky teenagers to attempt driving the bus.”

“Agreed,” Spencer said, “Could’ve shown up, took off after getting their gear.”

“They’re in good shape…they could do two hundred miles in a week,” Lovell said, “As it’s been a month, that means nearly anywhere in the largest state in the nation. Whether they started here or flew from Anchorage as suggested, it’s the same search area.”

“And not come across a road—didn’t they have their phones?” Spencer said.

“I checked the carriers,” Lovell said, “No pings, nothing, since June twenty first. I wish they’d think to call, at least once—you know, they’re fine and happy.”

“Tall order, asking a teenager to think,” Spencer said, “We’re surrounded by proof of that.”

Lovell snorted, sipped at his cold coffee.

“A darker and popular theory is they succumbed to those counselors,” Lovell said, “Despite the extensive searching with nothing to show for it, Captain Shrader is convinced that one is correct. Given no other camper remembers them, it would’ve been right after they arrived, and any knowledge of Cody’s is buried under the wishful thinking of a hiking alibi.”

“Seems reasonable,” Spencer said, “So, Mr. Vankleeck was either bribed or intimidated into helping with the coverup? Including helping their doppelgangers?”

“Possible.” Lovell stood up, and left the office. “Sorry, it was getting a bit stuffy and we do have this fresh air.”

Dirt found their polished black boots as they walked across the grass of the field, stopped at the top of the amphitheater.

“So, what do we do?” Spencer asked.

“Our jobs,” Lovell stated, “And so we’ll investigate from top to bottom, again if we…”

Spencer glanced at Lovell’s eyes as Lovell caught the glimmer of the sunlight off the wave caps of the lake. A few swimmers and boaters out on it.

“Has anybody checked the lake?” Lovell asked.

“What?” Spencer asked.

Lovell bolted into a run for the main office, spotted Keaton a pace ahead. Spencer was a few paces behind as Lovell grabbed the wrapped tablet from the meeting room. Lovell approached Keaton’s desk.

“Keaton, when did Alyce first arrive here?” Lovell asked.

“Thursday,” Keaton said.

“I meant what time,” Lovell said as he grabbed the visitor log on his desk.

“You won’t find it in there—new sheets every week,” Keaton said as he opened a metal filing cabinet. His hands pulled out a manila folder, opened it. “Good thing I’ve memorized the names.” He thumbed through the sheets. “9:34 am.”

“And I understand the impostor answered the summons,” Lovell said, as he wrote the first time onto a little spiral notebook, “What time was that?”

“I didn’t record that,” Keaton said, “Normally—”

“When did you call for the police?” Lovell asked.

“Not long after,” Keaton said, “Ought to warn you, that clock runs a bit fast, five to ten minutes, and that’s with resetting it every day.”

“Thanks for that,” Lovell said, “One more thing—we’re in a bit of a hurry, can we borrow a car?”

“Um…mine’s a bit temperamental and needs the oil changed,” Keaton said.

“Likely runs better than Captain Shrader’s,” Lovell said.

“At least my pistons aren’t shot,” Keaton said, “Helga says that the Landcastle voters turned down the last levy that would’ve helped them at least refurbish those—am I allowed to call them clunkers?”

“Mind if I borrow your car?” Lovell asked.

“Just don’t forget to put some gas in or you’re walking,” Keaton said, handing over a set of car keys. “It’s a manual transmission.”

“I must confess that it’s been a good number of years since I last drove one of those,” Lovell said as they left the office, “Yolanda taught Ifor.”

“It’ll come back,” Keaton said, leading them to a small orange coupe parked by the kitchen loading dock, “Press the clutch before you start.”

“Your jaguar is manual,” Lovell said to Spencer.

“This isn’t a jaguar,” Spencer said, getting into the driver seat.

“Thank you—I mean it,” Lovell said, “We’ll see to the oil too.”

“Um…fine, great,” Keaton said as helped Spencer close the driver side door, “It’s a bit sticky.”

Spencer tried several times before the engine finally rolled over and came to life. He put it into gear.

“Clutch feels—” Spencer started.

“Brand new!” Keaton shouted.

Spencer rolled up the window as they went along the road, past the official staff parking lot.

“Can you explain before we have to pay for his overhaul?” Spencer said.

“Camps are the worst place to keep secrets,” Lovell said, “Head for Anchorage—we need to drop this tablet off to forensics.”

“Nice day for a drive,” Spencer said.

“And I’m not discounting either theory right now,” Lovell said, “I’m treating them both as valid.”

“I’m listening,” Spencer said as he turned onto the road.

“First, our suspects aren’t professional,” Lovell said, “Shrader didn’t share how they preserved the bodies, but they had been refrigerated after death. The head count spooked them, so they staged the corpses one after another. Rigor mortis had already set in, with one appearing to be crushed beneath the cabin. A girl staged to seem like she slipped in the shower and cracked her head. A third had an unfortunate encounter with local wildlife. A fourth staged to seem like a trip and fall, with a convenient slide beneath the bushes.”

“You’re thinking they’re in the lake? Our boys, right now?” Spencer asked.

“Possibly—hope not,” Lovell said, “I don’t want to send waves, so we’re calling in divers after curfew. If it’s like the others, a fast search ought ot do. Keaton did mention some old abandoned mines around here—again, good locations to seem accidental.”

“Don’t think anybody’s thought of that,” Spencer said.

“At least they’re in custody,” Lovell said.

Spencer used the turn signal on the barren road, turned right onto the George Parks Highway.

“I heard they posted bail,” Spencer said.

“What?!” Lovell stammered, “Of all—doesn’t change the search, unless you propose we tag 'em.”

“Do we need to stop by the Department of Fish and Game?” Spencer asked.

“No, the Department of Mining,” Lovell said, “We also need to check North Boniface Parkway, get the radar tracks for the morning of June twenty first.”

“There’s that theory again,” Spencer said.

“Humor me then,” Lovell said, “We’re investigating both theories. If they did skip and fly, it’d show up on radar. There’s a seaplane base next to Ted Stevens, but for a runway, Merrill Field has bush pilots. We also need to check every business in the vicinity to see if their cameras recorded anything.”

“This is getting to be a tall order,” Spencer said.

“I’d like to keep this part to us, for now,” Lovell said, “However, we’ll inform Captain Shrader about the divers.”

The tires on the car kept spinning as they were starting to reach the outer limits of Wasilla.

“Sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Spencer said.

“A gamble and a hunch,” Lovell said, “Sometimes it’s best to play big.”

* * *

That evening, Lovell kept the binoculars on his eyes for a moment, the sky not completely dark, a bit of moonlight helped illuminate the ripples in the water. Captain Shrader approached the makeshift observation post at the top of the amphitheater.

“Sgt. Ulverston,” said Captain Shrader, “I confess I thought your message was a joke, but apparently not.”

“Being thorough, you can appreciate that,” said Lovell as men with diving tanks carried gear from the vans parked nearby over toward water.

“At least you’re not proposing we drain the lake,” Captain Shrader said

“Not yet,” Lovell stated.

Captain Shrader glared at Lovell, before he turned back toward the crowd of police divers carrying their gear to the end of the swimming docks.

“Given how much we’ve searched by air and on foot,” Lovell said, “There isn’t much more we can do without poking underneath the surface, and they’ve got to be around here somewhere. I mean, the notion that they flew off—wishful thinking, and while I hold onto a sliver of that to keep my sanity, I understand it for the pipe dream that it is. No, those boys are around here, and I will not stop until they’re found.”

“Next time Sargent,” Captain Shrader said, “Please consult me before summoning every diver in the state. A lot of us locals don’t take kindly to outsiders telling us what to do or how to do it.”

“Of course—I mean, yes sir,” Lovell said, “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Be sure you do,” Captain Shrader said as he began to leave.

“What the—?” Alyce said as she came over to them, pulled a nightgown tight, her eyes drifted toward the water. Divers were jumping into the water.

“Someone had the bright idea to check the lake,” Captain Shrader said.

“No—no—” Alyce started.

“I promised that I will search and searching I am, even the wildest of ideas,” Captain Shrader said, “I’m hoping we find nothing of importance, save the odd shopping cart or two that teenagers seemingly like to toss in. Up or down, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Captain Shrader left.

“You—” Alyce said with her eyes trained on Lovell’s, “You said—”

“For the love of our sons, trust me on this,” Lovell said, “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Because tomorrow, we’re playing host to the first Beacon of the Light caving jamboree.”

Lovell knew better than to laugh at confused face.

“I hope you remember your knots,” Lovell said.

* * *

Wednesday, July 22nd

Cody left his focus cabin, in the red shirt, knew Marcia was still behind, naked after their morning showers. He knew it was wrong, to play with his friend’s younger sister like that, but it was growing on him. Still, his blue jeans felt funny as he walked along, perhaps it was the lack of underwear.

“Hi!” Cody said to a passing pair of younger boys, neither acknowledged him.

Cody walked the trails, hoping another camper would end the informal silence treatment to him. He came down the mild hill, ot the grassy field with vans pulling onto it and people unloading them. As much as Cody was interested, he wanted to get things over with and went to the log cabin of the office, entered.

A sob or two along with shuffling came from the director’s office. Cody paused, peered in. Valerija was taking down pictures and mementos, packed them into several boxes.

“You’re leaving?” Cody asked.

“What do you think?” Valerija snapped back.

“I’m sorry,” Cody said.

“You ought to be,” Valerija said, “Seven campers either dead or missing—three lawsuits have already filed. Heads roll when this sort of stuff happens. I’m falling on the sword to save the camp.”

“I was looking for Sgt. Ulverston,” Cody said.

“You must not have seen him—he’s on the field,” Valerija said, “And I hope you understand how serious the fallout of your decisions can be—they affect more than just yourself.”

“Bye,” Cody said.

Cody left the office, passed through the field of vans and young men carrying ropes upon ropes. Cody spotted the man in black, went over.

“So,” Lovell said to the man next to him, “We need a contest to encourage all twenty to be searched—today.”

“A scavenger hunt might work,” the fellow said.

Cody glanced at the van, with Denali Underground stenciled within a large cave.

“I think you’re missing one—over here—” the man pointed at Lovell’s map.

“Then make that twenty one,” Lovell said, “Thank you Don for helping—”

“Not a problem, I love a challenge,” Don said, “You really think the kids might be in there?”

“All within ten miles, so it’s a possibility—” Lovell said.

“You’re not believing—” Cody started as he began to retreat.

Lovell advanced faster, gave a firm grip to Cody’s wrist.

“Stop!” Cody quipped.

“You still don’t understand how police work, do you?” Lovell said, “We’re trained to pursue all leads until they’re exhausted. That includes the popular ones and the unpopular, like yours.”

Lovell relaxed his grip. Cody crossed his arms.

“But you—” Cody started.

“I’ve cashed in every professional favor and issued enough IOUs to be in debt until long after I retire,” Lovell said, “I called you to tell you that your inquiry about the backpacks was correct, they’re not at our houses.”

“I told you!” Cody snapped.

“Do not read more into that,” Lovell said, “It only means they took the backpacks, it does not imply where they took them too.”

Cody stared at the ground.

“Sgt. Ulverston!”

Captain Shrader came over.

“See if Mrs. Gillespie needs some help or something,” Lovell said to Cody.

Cody stood there.

“Do you mind explaining—” Captain Shrader said, hand palmed out toward the field filled with vans of climbing gear.

“I heard that there were some old mining operations here at one time,” Lovell said, “As we’ve scoured the lands rather thoroughly, falling down an old mine—or being forced down one, is the hypothesis that we’re testing. And as you made clear during last night’s swimsuit contest, calling every cop in the state overtaxes our resources. Therefore, the Denali Underground, here, had graciously offered to coordinate—with more accurate locations of the mines than even the Department of Mining. So, I flew in caving clubs from all over, including Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, and Calgary. I’m sorry if I forgot to tell you all this earlier, I’ve been rather busy coordinating—my son’s still out there.”

Captain Shrader took a moment, surveyed the colorfully dressed man in his twenties standing there next to Lovell.

“I should hire you full time, you’re definitely more proactive than my deputies.” Captain Shrader started to walk, but halted. “Oh, I was speaking metaphorically when I said you should turn the camp inside out—I don’t advise that.”

Captain Shrader left.

“Whoa!” Cody remarked.

“See what you started?” Lovell said to him.

“I couldn’t have foreseen all of this,” Cody said.

“Not all consequences can be foreseen, but that does not absolve you of responsibility for your actions,” Lovell said, “Remember that.”

“I will,” Cody grumbled.

Cody left.


	19. Sticky

Wednesday, July 22nd (continued)

Risley crouched near the stove, the sizzle of the fish in the pan, however, he stared at Ifor’s balls. Ifor’s hard erection buried into Dorcia on top of him on his back, her legs around his stomach as she stayed squatting. Ifor’s hips flexed, the shaft slipped.

“Catcher of fish,” Dorcia said to Ifor, “Reap and earn that appetite.”

“They’re at it,” Maev said.

“So?” Grant asked.

Risley understood. Something that they’re supposed to be kept secret, unspoken at home. As Risley watched Ifor’s testicles jiggle as they were being used, Risley felt the strong friendship…brotherhood that had formed between them. To witness and be witnessed, spoke to the trust they had. Ifor held his dick inside her, the rapid pumping, and Risley knew those round lumps were being juiced and drained.

“Better,” Dorcia said as she stood up.

Ifor’s foreskin restored itself as his damp penis softened, the tip filled with the off–white ooze as it came to rest in his fluffy light brown pubic hair.

“Thank you,” Ifor said.

* * *

Sunshine made the brown bright, Cody smelled a bit of the manure as he and Marcia were leaning against the fence of the horse stables where the various service roads met up with the main parking lot. His right hand was holding her left.

“Will they let us ride?” Marcia asked.

“Suppose if I ask really, really nicely,” Cody said.

A rumble came to them, the horses took off at a full gallop toward the other end of the large fenced area, into the grove of trees. One brown one bearing a white stripe on his muzzle, started the fast trot. A white one and black one joined in the pursuit, while three others trotted. The brown one picked up the pace, outran his friends.

“Cool,” Marcia said, her fingers played with his.

Crunch of gravel and Cody turned his head. A white and black van pulled in, idled the engine, with lettering on the side.

“Medical Examiner—you mean the coroner?” Cody said, “Dear Lord—”

Cody pulled on Marcia as he started to cross, however, Lovell bolted across the gravel, opened the door, and sat in the van. It pulled out, drove fast down the left service road.

“What’s it mean?” Marcia asked.

“They found something,” Cody stated.

“Guessing Mom’s at the dining hall,” Marcia said.

Cody ran, Marcia straggled a bit. He entered the dining hall.

“So,” Alyce said to Helga, the head cook, “They climb up the Fremont Bridge—it’s tall. They brought up two cans of spray paint, each. All rattlers once they came down into the hands of the police. Oh, Lovell was not appreciative of his son’s creative aspirations. Risley—we grounded him good.”

“It sounds like they enjoyed their childhoods,” Helga said, “You should be proud—”

“Mom!” Marcia shouted as she entered the dining hall.

Alyce’s head turned toward Cody and Marcia.

“Coroner—” Marcia started.

“Oh no—” Alyce started.

“Let us see for ourselves,” Cody suggested.

Alyce walked with Cody and Marcia, headed up the trail toward the boys half of the camp. General chatter made it easy to find the van, parked near the boys’ shower, where a small crowd of other curious campers gathered. Thrashing of the bushes, Lovell came up a trail while escorting several of the cavers. A body bag was on the stretcher that was being carried.

“Oh no—” Alyce started.

Lovell came over to her, his hands gripped her shaking arms.

“Keep yourself together,” Lovell said, “A search can uncover everything, including the skeletons in the closet. I checked, it’s much too old to be ours. I need to go back as a second set was found there. Talk to you later.”

Lovell waited until the stretcher was loaded into the van, and returned down the trail. Alyce turned, glared at Cody.

“Come,” Marcia whispered to Cody.

Marcia led Cody back down the service road, to his focus cabin.

“They…” Cody muttered, the visions of that being how Risley and Ifor and Grant were came to his head.

Marcia wrapped her arms around Cody, held him tight, while her hands slipped down the back of his jeans and rubbed into his buttocks. Cody stumbled, fell back onto the bed. Marcia dropped her jeans, crawled over him. She undid his zipper, pulled out his stiffening erection, drew it out, and set it between her thighs as she laid on him. Cody felt the cloth of her panties against his hard erection, a crevice beneath, while she lifted her shirt a bit.

“It’s okay,” Marcia said as she brought his hands beneath her braless shirt.

Cody felt them, the nipples, the round supple breasts. Cody understood every bible verse he was violating, but the temptation against his stiff dick wasn’t something he had the will to resist. Instead, he laid there, letting her show herself to him, and he wasn’t upset by it. He figured if Risley was dead, it was best to look after the sister on his friend’s behalf.

* * *

Spencer entered the meeting room that afternoon, next to the main office at the Beacon of the Light Youth camp. Lovell was on the chair, reviewing the notes in his small spiral notebook, while sucking on the pen cap.

“Heard you had a busy day,” Spencer said.

“Found three,” Lovell said, “Not them though—guess the Alaskan winter preserves remains a bit better.”

“At least that’s something,” Spencer said, “Feeling better?”

“No,” Lovell replied.

“It occurred to me that we may have overlooked the possibility of an abduction,” Spencer said, “Like after they left the airport.”

“It stinks,” Lovell said.

“Just as plausible as Cody’s theory,” Spencer said.

“Did you make any inquiries?” Lovell asked.

“Got footage from many businesses,” Spencer said, “It’ll take time—I sent it to Portland for analysis.”

Lovell kept his hands at his chin.

“You’re exhausted, you need a break,” Spencer said.

“I’ll rest when my son is in my arms,” Lovell stated.

“I mean it, or relief,” Spencer said, “Lots of girls here who could—”

“That’s not appropriate to even consider,” Lovell stated.

“Never mind,” Spencer said.

“What?!” Cody stammered as he came into the room, Marcia with him.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Alyce said as she entered a couple of moments later.

“Have a seat,” Lovell said as he stood.

Alyce and Marcia sat. Cody remained standing, arms crossed.

“An update,” Lovell said, “We scoured every cave within ten miles of this camp. No sign of Ifor, Risley, or Grant were seen, we simply do not know.”

“They’re still missing,” Alyce said, “What did you accomplish?!”

“Three sets of remains were found—cold cases,” Lovell said, “Thus we gave those three families answers and a bit of closure—if there’s such a thing.”

“Ours are still out there,” Alyce said.

“I know,” Lovell said, “I know.”

“That’s it?” Cody asked.

“Unless you have more to add,” Lovell said.

Cody left, Marcia followed.

“Are those two—?” Spencer started.

“Stop the speculation,” Lovell said, “Alyce, I’m being methodical because one of the theories is correct, but the rest are not. Finding the right one is our best chance to find them.”

“Understood,” Alyce said, “Thank you.”

Alyce left.

“What’s the next theory we’re putting to rest?” Spencer asked.

“Oh, you’ll smell it,” Lovell said.

* * *

Marcia followed Cody as he left the dining hall, the evening already set in, a large paper bowl of tapioca pudding in his hands.

“Secret at a camp is to be friendly with the kitchen staff,” Cody said.

“You’ve been to summer camp with the Wild Trekkers,” Marcia said, “Any different?”

“Yeah, better,” Cody said, “Even with, you know…I don’t regret coming.”

She slipped her hand down the back of his jeans, felt the left buttock flex.

“Doing it again,” Cody said.

Chimes rang through the camp.

“They’re supposed to be in bed—almost,” Marcia said, her hand threatened to drop his jeans, “Walk along in even less?”

“You simply want to get into my pants!” Cody said.

“That too,” Marcia said.

“You’re serious?” Cody asked.

“I’m sleeping with you, aren’t I?” Marcia asked.

“Cool,” Cody stated.

Marcia knew boys to be thick headed, Cody took the cake. She’s seen him many times over the years, hanging out with Risley and the others. She was the little sister, yet Cody never acted like Risley did toward her. He seemed perfect…apart from getting her brother killed.

They reached his focus cabin, went up the steps, and entered. Cody placed the bowl of pudding on his desk and stripped. Marcia sat on the chair, and she locked her eyes on his brown eyes returning her stare. Her focus broken as his fingers scratched his wide pubic hair triangle, he pulled a knot out of it. She kept her eye on it, his sixteen year old penis, as she pulled her shirt off, braless and her breasts loitered.

“You’re liking this?” Cody asked.

Marcia watched as his circumcised penis engorged itself, stiffened into a hard erection. She pulled her pants and panties off, over the edge of the chair, and watched his dick twitch. She glanced up, his face turned red in a serious blush.

“It was a zoo today,” Marcia said, deciding to take the heat off.

“Bet it did.” Cody grabbed the pudding, sat on the bed, and leaned back. Cody rested the paper bowl on his stomach, the edge touched his hard erection jutting upward, and grabbed the spoon. “He’d be busy searching all those caves and mines.”

Marcia glanced at those two round lumps of his testicles resting there beneath the bottom ridge of the hard shaft.

“What next?” Marcia asked, “Dig after buying every shovel in Alaska?”

Cody laughed and the bowl tipped.

“God dammit!” Cody exclaimed as his fingers reached to rescue the bowl, but not before splatters of the tapioca pudding was on him.

“Oh my…” Marcia said, puddles were on his chest, his stomach, with a bit in the strands of his brown pubic hair.

“My towel—” Cody said as he sat up, handed the dripping paper bowl to her.

Marcia got a thought as she put the bowl on the desk. Her eyes focused on his desert topped skin as she moved toward him.

“I said—” Cody started.

“Seems alright,” Marcia said.

“I’d have to use my fingers for my belly button,” Cody retorted.

Marcia knelt next to the bed, leaned in, and used her tongue to lap at a bit near his right nipple. She tasted the mixture of sweat in with the sweet.

“Tastes…touch of salt doesn’t ruin it completely,” Marcia said.

“You’re—?” Cody asked

“Find out,” Marcia said as she pushed on his shoulders to lay back down.

Marcia climbed onto the bed, brought her chest over his head, her breasts weighed down onto him as she licked at his chest. She continued as she cleaned, moved lower on Cody’s stomach, until she squeezed her tongue at his belly button.

Cody giggled, his cock remained stiff.

She kept her warm tongue moving along, worked toward his waist. She rotated her head as the tongue reached his pubic hair, with his hard cock against her cheek. Rough as strands of his hair kept going across her tongue, when her tongue nicked his cock.

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t spill more?” Cody asked.

“You mean like…?” She felt naughty and wanted to go deeper. She got off the bed as she reached, grabbed the bowl, and poured it over the pink glans of his hard erection; thick pudding flowed down the sides, mostly along the ridge to rest on his testicles.

“Yes!” Cody snapped, “Like that!”

“Relax,” Marcia said, “I’ll get it.”

Marcia knelt with her knees on the edge of the bed, near his feet, and leaned over. She reached with her tongue, tilted her head as it settled down on his left testicle. Her tongue dragged itself, from the bottom of the pouch, along the side, and in the front. She licked up to the slight flap of skin where it met with the hard erection.

“I could clean…” Cody started.

“And miss out?” Marcia asked.

Marcia returned to his right testicle, licked, and heard him giggle. Her hands felt into his thighs, felt the muscles ease up. She moved her tongue to the ridge of his urethrae, took in the pudding as it moved up the shaft. She reached the tip, licked across the toughness of his pink glans, and she stared for a moment. A slit, the flamboyant shoulder wrapped around, more above than below the straight slit. It was her brother’s friend, and she deserved this. She moved her head in, let his glans enter her mouth. It threatened to split her lips, but it slipped in with a tight fit.

“I…” Cody muttered.

Tapioca pudding came to her as her tongue circled his dick, slid along the shoulder of his glans, tasted the bitterness of a urine aftertaste, but sucked it up. A spasm, and hot liquid shot down her throat as she inhaled. She pulled off fast, his penis squirting, and she coughed.

“Alright?” Cody asked.

“Yes,” she said.

She licked at the top, the hot magma mixed with the pudding, a mixture of sweet combined with the meaty flavor. While not the best, she understood it to be part of the job, and she continued to lick. She returned to the slit, where a bit more had already oozed out.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Judge in the…” Cody dozed off and his penis softened.

Marcia climbed over and laid on him; she let her left thigh rest across the penis against his stomach, laid her head above his left nipple. She grabbed his hands, helped them, listened to his breaths that put her to sleep, and wondered about her brother’s fate.

* * *

Risley hung upside down with his knees over the branch. Ifor, with a hard dick, stood with Dorcia right in front of him, Maev a few steps removed. Flames from the nearby fire kept the darkness away.

“Thank you for volunteering to be the model,” Ifor said.

“You had the larger dump,” Risley grumbled.

“You already know the basics,” Ifor said to Dorcia, “I mean—his penis?”

Risley felt the fingers touching his.

“Testicles?” Ifor asked.

“Um…” Dorcia muttered.

“My balls,” Risley said.

“Oh, these?” Dorcia asked as she tickled.

“Vulgar usage mix the two up,” Ifor said, “Technically, this—” Ifor jabbed his finger at Risley’s left testicle “—is one of his testicles, the thing beneath this skin, called the scrotum.”

Risley felt the fingers.

“Bit of a purse,” Dorcia said.

“Yep,” Risley said.

“His testicles produce sperm,” Ifor said, “Here, feel the tubes inside.”

Risley felt the fingers reaching in, exploring.

“You’ll know more about him than he does,” Maev said.

“Sperm gets sent to his prostate gland which adds in the extra stuff to make his semen,” Ifor said, “You can feel it—here.”

Risley felt the fingers slid into his anus, his soft penis stiffened fast.

“Is this—?” Dorcia started.

“About the size of a walnut,” Ifor said, “Massage it—gently, for a bit of extra fun.”

Risley felt some motions.

“Don’t do it too much,” Grant said, nearby, “He’ll—you’ll set him off.”

“Now I don’t know the quack who designed the human body,” Ifor said, “Mixing recreational pleasure with sanitation areas, but here we are. Now, when he ejaculates, he’s got—they’re called sphincter muscles, it seals his bladder from the mess. Instead, it shares this.”

Risley felt the fingers run along his hard shaft.

“His urethrae runs along the bottom of his dick,” Ifor said, “All the way to here—his meatus, or more commonly called his pee hole, which is where his semen comes out.”

“Aw,” Dorcia said.

“Of course, this is during his orgasm—we boys only get one per shot and must wait at least hours before it’s comfortable to do it again,” Ifor said, “And we can only orgasm while we’ve got this—” He shook Risley’s hard cock “—an erection.”

“It sucks,” Dorcia said, “Two—three orgasms in a row, you’re missing out.”

“So, you’ve unlocked this achievement, that’s how this penis works,” Ifor said, “Mine and Grant’s work the same way, like any boy’s.”

“A diagram in a book would show the same,” Maev said.

“Outlawed,” Grant said.

“I prefer this way,” Dorcia said.

“Sure you do,” Risley stated.

“And you can tell a ritualistic difference here,” Ifor said as he worked Risley’s foreskin, “Now, strictly speaking, the penis is usable without this, however, churches like to remove it.”

“Why didn’t your folks do that?” Dorcia asked.

“Cutting on God’s image before it’s time is taboo,” Risley said, “Thank you very much—hope to never get married.”

“To review, his scrotum?” Ifor asked.

Risley felt the fingers on his.

“Prostate gland?” Ifor asked.

“Um…” Dorcia said, “Back…”

Risley felt the fingers squeeze between his buttocks.

“Go ahead, get in,” Grant said, stepping in behind Risley.

Pfffpt!

“Bit disgusting, I know,” Ifor said.

Fingers went in and Risley felt a bit of antics from them.

“Keep that up,” Grant said, “His glans?”

Fingers went to Risley’s pink, rubbed.

“Fulcrum?” Grant asked.

“What’s that?” Dorcia asked.

“Here,” Ifor said, guided her left fingers.

Risley felt the rubbing, on the shaft where his glans and slit came together.

“More,” Grant said.

“And watch,” Ifor said as Risley felt his testicles moved away.

“This ought to be harmless,” Maev said.

Attention of them studying his hard erection only fed into the sense of stimulation for Risley.

“Pay close watch,” Ifor said, finger along the ridge of Risley’s urethrae.

A quiver and a quench, Risley felt the spasm as his off white shot out.

“That’s his orgasm,” Grant said.

“Cool,” Dorcia said, “It’s actually—?”

“It’s shooting his load,” Ifor said.

Risley spotted it, the off white dripping down between her breasts.

“You can stop with his prostate,” Grant said.

Fingers left Risley’s anus.

“Feel these,” Ifor said, as Risley felt several sets of fingers on his scrotum, “His testicles are depleted, so they’re a bit softer to the touch. They’ll make more sperm, and he’ll recharge.”

“Understand it now?” Grant asked.

“Yes,” Dorcia said, “Thank you for showing me.”

“Those are my balls,” Risley said.

Dorcia knelt, kissed Risley on the lips.

“What? We paid up,” Ifor said to Risley, “You did get a hand job out of it.”

“I know, I…” Risley began to drift off, barely aware of Ifor catching him as he fell from the branch, and went asleep.


	20. Stench

Thursday, July 23rd

Cody woke as the morning chimes rang. Marcia stood up first, her naked figure filled his eyes while his head hurt as he mulled over the many bible verses about his behavior. Marcia grinned as she held both of their towels in her hands.

“Shower!” Marcia exclaimed

“Wait a minute—” Cody started.

“Lets make it interesting,” she said, “Stop me!”

Before Cody could digest her words, she sprinted out of the cabin, towels in her outstretched hands. Cody’s heart raced, he kicked his feet into his sandals, and gave chase. Marcia watched from the service road as he ran toward it.

“Stop!” Cody said.

His heart kept racing as he ran in his birthday suit onto the service road, trusted in the luck of the Lord as he followed her. Those few hundred feet on the service road felt like few miles to the boys’ shower building. His flesh stiffened with his pace, and his hard cock edged first into the building. Marcia laughed and laughed.

“Dangerous, very dangerous!” Cody said, “That was—don’t do it again!”

“Oh to repeat would be little fun,” Marcia said, “Fastest time to the shower, though.”

Cody stood there, his erection firm and jutting out, as his eyes became ensnared by her. Nipples on the round tits beneath her collar bone, a stomach with her belly button, down to the straightness of a gap, the opening into desire. Temptation swelled within him, his boner a fair trade to understand it. Cody stepped close to her as they walked onto the tile, sunshine basked their skin; his fingers drifted toward her left nipple on his right.

“Funny,” Cody said, “Until…until you showed up, you were but a kid to me. Suppose Risley still thinks that.”

“He does,” Marcia replied.

She spun herself around, her bare butt covered in sunshine flashed by, and she stood underneath the shower head by the wall.

“I am…” Cody muttered as he stepped close.

He grabbed her shoulders.

“He treats you as some rock,” Cody said, his eyes studied the curves, the roundness of her breasts and the shadows they cast, “You’re a gem, beautiful that he cannot properly see.”

“About sums it up,” Marcia said.

“Explore it together,” Cody said as he took that next step closer, his glans touched her belly button.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

Her eyes and her beauty seductive, the Lord’s design became clear where he must put it. Cody realized her being shorter meant that spot was lower on her than would naturally fit, so he reached around her and grabbed her butt. A pull, he lifted her against the wall, his glans touched the groove before it started to deflect. Marcia’s right hand moved in, fingers widened the gap into her, and warmth enveloped his hard shaft. Cody stood there, uncertain to the next move.

“What’s next?” Cody muttered.

“Heard it’s like a jackhammer,” Marcia said, “Lemme…”

She reached for ring of the shower handle, pulled on it, held herself up. Water poured over them both, the transition to warm taking forever, but it came. Cody began to flex his hips, his cock sliding inside her felt right, and he began to drill. In and out, each one hinted to the temptation he was submitting to, the desire to experience this overwhelming every teaching he knew of in the Bible. He felt the spasms start, held it in, them together, as the surge of the orgasm went through him. Cody pulled out, his slit dripped a bit more, and he watched as the water washed it away.

“Feel better?” Cody asked.

“Suppose so,” Marcia said as she let herself down.

Cody lathered his hands up, began to rub her breasts as he washed her.

“Was that…was that…sex?” Cody asked.

“Likely, yes,” Marcia said, “Not asking Mom about it.”

“No,” Cody replied as Marcia began to wash his testicles and his softening penis.

Inch by inch, they washed each other as until the morning activity chimes rang.

“Shit!” Cody said.

Cody took the few steps, slipped his feet into his sandals as he grabbed his towel. Marcia followed. Both dripping wet, they ran out of the shower building. Footsteps approached and they made it onto the service road when a rumbling noise only got louder. With a sharp turn of his feet, Cody pulled them both onto another trail, not his, about twenty feet away a truck came driving by—Ed’s Septic Service.

Cody laughed. “I thought it was—”

“Not funny,” Marcia said, “We’re naked.”

“Whose idea was that?” Cody asked.

“You took the bait,” she said as they walked along the service road.

Cody stopped, pulled her in, some water still dripping along their skin. He grabbed her towel.

“Yes I did,” Cody said as he began to dry her, “Nothing like an early morning workout.”

“Shove it!” she retorted, gave him a light shove, “Best move.”

Cody felt a bit different, a bit less concerned than he should be, despite standing naked on the service road. Marcia, though, grabbed his hand and pulled. They went onto the trail for his cabin, and entered.

“Did you like it?” Marcia asked, “Back there?”

Cody smiled.

* * *

Spencer and Lovell watched as the big man pushed the hose from the septic service tank into the monitor tube.

“I hear they’re debating hiring you on for maintenance,” Spencer said, “Or director since you’re organizing so many camp activities.”

“A cop’s gotta do what a cop’s gotta do,” Lovell said,

Spencer waved his hand in front of his face, took out a small tub of rub from his belt, and applied a bit of the jelly–like substance beneath his nose.

“Should’ve gone for breakfast,” Spencer said.

Lovell laughed.

“I know you,” Spencer said, “You never do anything like this unless you’re confident or proving a point, and I think it’s the latter.”

“Both,” Lovell replied.

“I thought as much,” Spencer said, as a helicopter buzzed overhead. “Love to stay and smell—but I’m—”

“Keep it up, for the love of God and our boys, stay on it,” Lovell said.

Spencer left.

* * *

Grant dipped the razor into the pot of warm water, ran it across his soaped up face, as he sat cross–legged.

“You’re letting him—?” Maev asked.

“Yes,” Dorcia said, sitting nearby on the grass, “Give them a bit of innocence back.”

“We’ve had sex,” Grant said, “No innocence here.”

Laughter.

“In more ways than one,” Ifor said, as he leaned back against the flagpole, no effort to hide his hard erection as it jutted out.

Grant needed no explanation for Ifor’s hard cock, as Ifor was staring at Risley washing himself beneath the solar shower.

“And our shower,” Maev said.

“We were pressed for time and took a shortcut or two while packing,” Grant said.

“We had hours,” Maev said.

“Did you have to hide it from your parents?” Ifor asked.

“Grampa didn’t want me telling Dad,” Dorcia said, “Didn’t argue.”

“Your Dad was out drinking,” Maev said.

“Don’t use all the hot water,” Dorcia said to Risley.

“I’m not,” Risley said, sudsy water dripped from his penis.

“You’ve only got five gallons,” Grant said as he dipped the razor back into the pot, “Though somebody wants you to take your time.”

“What?” Ifor asked.

“He meant Dorcia,” Risley said, “And she can watch all she wants!”

Risley stopped the water; teased his penis, the erection came out fast.

“I agree,” Dorcia said, “He can loiter and take his time.”

Risley shook his hips, took the few steps to her, his hard dick swayed. She leaned forward, and his tip tapped her nose as it swung back and forth.

“How long are you going to take?” Maev asked.

Grant hadn’t considered that, it had only been several days.

“Dunno,” Grant said, “Not sure when we’ll get back onto the trail.”

“I meant—” Maev started.

“Can we keep you?” Risley asked.

Laughter.

“What are your plans?” Maev asked.

“Nothing apart from having to be in Anchorage at the end of next month,” Grant said, “You know, to catch our flights home.”

“We’re flexible,” Ifor said.

Risley laughed.

“You?” Grant asked.

“Not as much time,” Dorcia said, “Grampa didn’t want me to miss my wedding to my…cousin.”

“Oh, they want to take you up as replacements,” Maev said.

“Really?” Dorcia said, “It’s in December—Grampa’s a bit senile at times.”

“We’ll fight over it to the death,” Grant said.

“Can’t we share?” Risley asked.

Laughter.

“Let’s not think about this,” Ifor said as he knelt in front of Dorcia, “It’s a place a guy should be able to get a blow job in peace—his old man need not know.”

Dorcia leaned over, put her mouth over Ifor’s stiff erection.

“It’s going to be a while,” Maev said.

“I like it here,” Grant said.

Grant glanced around. Maev, sitting naked in front of the tent. Risley dried himself off with Dorcia’s floral towel. And Ifor, treating his dick as a bit communal entertainment.

“In a month, Dad’ll ask us how camp went. He need need not be worried about…” Ifor drifted off as his hard dick began to pump into Dorcia’s mouth.

* * *

“That’ll be—” the scruffy man started, as he stood next to the door of the septic truck, the odor ripe beneath the darkening sky.

“Here,” Lovell said as he handed the plastic card over, “Make sure you mention it’s for the camp—at least I can write it off on my taxes.”

“Hope you find your boys,” the man said, “If you need me again, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Will do,” Lovell said.

The man got into his septic tank, left the parking lot.

“You certainly cleaned everything out,” said Spencer, “At least I can take a shit knowing I won’t overflow the tank!”

Lovell heard the coughing in the distance.

“Funny, my hearing’s gotten better since I came here,” Lovell said, “Must be the peace and quiet.”

They walked down the service road.

“Can I talk to you about today?” Spencer asked.

“After—I promised them an update,” Lovell said.

“Yeah, it’ll wait,” Spencer said.

Lovell entered the main office, walked into the main office. Alyce sitting on one end. Cody and Marcia were sitting next to each other, on the floor, in front of the fireplace, giggling.

“Many people complained about the smell today,” Alyce said, “I’m not. Thank you, whatever the outcome, thank you.”

“If you think that’s amazing,” Spencer said, “Wait until you see the bill.”

“I’d happily max out my credit card many times over to get him back,” Lovell said, “Part of you hopes that we get answers each time we do a search, yet part of you knows what any answers would confirm the worst outcome.”

Alyce nodded, Cody and Marcia turned their heads.

“I have extensively searched this camp,” Lovell said, “I am confident that they are not here.”

“I told you that on the first day,” Cody spat.

“Then do you know every step they took after the airport?” Lovell said, “As you claim that you do not, that does not make it verifiable. As such, I’m now exploring the theory that they were abducted—skipping the bus, and were lured—”

Cody stood up.

“Mr. Van—” Lovell started.

“As you’ve got no interest in listening—I’ve got none,” Cody stated, and walked out. Marcia ran after him.

Lovell turned to Alyce.

“As if I need to explain that to you,” Alyce said.

“He’s—” Lovell pointed out the door “—responsible for the disappearance of your son—”

“And I’m lucky to get the time day from her,” Alyce said, “And he likely understands that if anything happened, he’d be fortunate to need pumping out. Where do we go next?”

“I’ve given their photographs—that flyer to every reporter in the state,” Lovell said, “But there are many empty miles between here and Anchorage—anything’s possible.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Spencer said.

“Sure,” Alyce said as she left.

“What?” Lovell said as he sat in a chair, “Sorry, it’s frustrating. I should be—.”

“You’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing—worrying,” Spencer said as he paced in front of the table, “I talked to Donald, he found—”

“What can he tell from Portland?” Lovell said, “Sorry.”

“He unraveled your boys’ shipment,” Spencer said, “Though it was addressed to them here, it went via an anonymous forwarding agent in Anchorage, and vanished. Therefore, it ended up in one of the industrial areas. He also found one video frame of them riding in a taxi.”

“He has?” Lovell asked, “That means—”

“They never made the bus,” Spencer said, “He’s diving into the radar track database. That took a bit of persuasion, I won’t mention the green lubricant required to get access.”

“He’s here?” Lovell asked.

“Dammit Lovell,” Spencer said, “Every member of the brigade wants to come and help—the boys are family to all of us. Captain Alexis Sefton has to restrain us because, you know, things still happen in Portland. Malcolm will pick us up in the morning.”

“Him—he’s our best pilot,” Lovell said.

“Exactly—I don’t think he gave the Captain the option to refuse his request to help,” Spencer said, “However, her patience will run thin, so we don’t have a lot of time before she’s forced to recall us. So we need to make best use of our time so that we can come back with Ifor and them, safe and sound.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said, “One word from Cody could’ve saved us a heap of trouble.”

“Teenagers are still teenagers,” Spencer said, “Are he and Risley’s sister hooking up?”

“I merely suggested she try to get some answers from him,” Lovell said, “I couldn’t have foreseen that.”

“Nor could Cody have foreseen this,” Spencer said, “Give him a break.”

* * *

Marcia followed Cody to his focus cabin, the twilight had already set in, as they entered. Cody kicked his suitcase as it laid helpless beneath the bed.

“Better?” Marcia asked.

“I told them again and again exactly what their sons were planning to do,” Cody said as he turned, his glare upon Marcia for a moment, “But because I didn’t tattle and betray them in Portland—they won’t believe me?”

Cody took a step backward, leaned with his covered butt against the window.

“It’s frustrating,” Cody said, “More than his search—what part couldn’t they understand?”

Cody blew threw his mouth. Marcia stepped closer, leaned in as she slid her hands down the front of his jeans and underwear. She knew the contents, felt the hair, the soft penis saddled there, before she held his testicles. Cody sighed, exhaled.

“At least the Sargent has stopped short of logging and strip mining the whole camp,” Cody said.

Cody unbuttoned the top of his blue jeans, pulled the zipper down. Marcia felt the penis slither a bit between her hands as her fingers rubbed into his scrotum. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, rubbed at her breasts.

“Didn’t you have—?” Cody started.

“Forgot to pack more,” Marcia said, “I could steal one of Mom’s—”

“Don’t,” Cody said, “It’s fine.”

She felt as his dick solidified, stiffened.

“Blowing his plan wouldn’t have taught Risley the lesson,” Marcia said.

“I heard them plan,” Cody said as his blue jeans fell down to his ankles, “They packed, they prepared! I’m sure they’re doing alright!”

Cody stepped out of his blue jeans, pulled her shirt off. Marcia pulled his white underwear down; her fingers held his balls while her thumbs curled to hook above his hard shaft, the hem of his red T–shirt saddled on her hands.

“But no!” Cody said, “Supposedly I’m involved in hogtying them up and dropping them down some toilet!”

Cody huffed again, pulled his T–shirt off as he stepped out of his white briefs underwear. She held onto his hard dick, and he held her breasts with his thumbs teasing her nipples.

“With all that searching, did they think to ask a pilot?” Cody said, as he moved to drop her shorts and panties in one move. He returned his hands to her breasts. “Missing flyers along the highway won’t help. Grant—I think he did most of the organizing, his sort of talent, he’d certainly arranged for them to be flown into the wilderness, they knew they weren’t supposed to skip camp, so you think they’d even want to be seen? No, they’re out there, they’ll be back.”

“Bursting my bubble?” Marcia asked.

Cody snickered.

“We could use a bit more daring,” Marcia said, studying his triangle of pubic hair.

“What’d you have in mind?” Cody asked as she stepped out of her panties.

“Out behind the cabin,” Marcia said, “Nothing big.”

“People might—” Cody started.

“And you’re a seven time serial killer to them,” Marcia said, “They’ll give you privacy until they come with the pitchforks. At that point, it won’t matter what’s hanging out.”

She pulled lightly on Cody’s scrotum, and Cody started to move with her.

“Any sudden noises—” Cody started.

“You worry too much,” Marcia said, “Nothing busts you faster than being convinced you’re going to get caught—a lack of confidence is a dead giveaway.

Marcia pushed the cabin door wide open, the waning light illuminated them. Her hand moved to his hand, pulled. Cody followed outside. Mud, twigs, and bits of grass met their feet as she led him behind the cabin, and she started to move up the hill.

“Gotta be kidding,” Cody said.

“Look at it!” Marcia said as she pointed, this side duller than their eyes could easily distinguish, “Could you make us out if you wanted to?”

Marcia let go of his hand, scrambled to the right, up through the dark shadow of the hill. Cody followed her up to nearly the top, where she sat on a large rock. She caught his eyes level with her vagina.

“Well, come on,” Marcia said.

Cody hopped up, one knee on the rock, leaned forward. His hard cock jutted downward.

“On second thought…” she muttered.

Cody paused. She reached, fingered those testicles that hung loose between his spread legs.

“You’re fine,” she said.

Cody turned, sat crosslegged. She moved, turned to squat, her shins on his thighs, and she slid until his erection touched the apex between her legs.

“This is so—” Cody started.

“If God disapproved, he wouldn’t have led me into the boys shower,” Marcia said, “If God disapproved, he wouldn’t have given me doubt, doubt that spared your—I mean he gave me the strength to crush the devil’s suggestions. If God disapproved, I wouldn’t be here now, enjoying your company. Maybe having Risley vanish was his lesson to us, to appreciate what’s in front of you.”

She leaned forward, felt his fingers exploring her breasts between them, his dick that loitered between her legs. She leaned more, and he yielded to lean further back.

“I trust in the Lord’s plan,” Marcia said, “Do you?”

“Thank you Lord for what you’ve bestowed,” Cody said as his back rested on the rock, “We share this with you.”

Marcia sat back up, raised herself enough until she felt the tip of his dick settle between the lace of her petal. His fingers guided his shaft as she sat, her own flesh enveloped his up to the hilt. She flexed her knees and hips, his cock moved against her.

“Yes,” Cody said, “Praise the Lord!”

Marcia shifted herself slightly as she flexed, found the best spot to have his hard erection rub against within her, Cody’s hard cock worked for her. A tight fit that squeezed with each and every move, the repeated suction and she felt the pulsing along his hard dick. She kept moving as the surge of warmth it inside, when she felt it, a wave that crashed over her.

“Oh…oh…” she exclaimed.

“What’s the matter?” Cody asked.

“Nothing…nothing,” Marcia said, this boy became perfect to her, even as the softening penis departed her vagina.

She glanced at his eyes, the stars reflected as the pupils focused upward onto the heavens.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Cody said, “Hope Risley and them are making it, having fun.”

Marcia rolled over, laid next to him.

“Suppose that’s the right thing,” Marcia said.

“Camp could’ve done them a lot of good,” Cody said, “However, your mind has to be open for it to work. Even Jesus required forty days in the wilderness to find the Lord, this is their chance to find him, and I hope they do. Everybody should be able to experience the Lord in his full glory…suppose you’re right, sharing us with him is beautiful too.”

“Thank you,” Marcia said.

She rolled a bit more, felt his left arm wrap around him, and wondered about her brother as she fell to sleep.

* * *

White browned as the marshmallow sat skewered to the end of the stick over the fire beneath the stars in the Thursday evening sky, around the same time that Cody and Marcia were heading up the rocks of the hill. Ifor watched Grant turn the sticks. Maev sat next to Ifor.

“Thank you,” Risley said, his beard already gone, like Ifor’s and Grant’s, on his back.

Risley’s hard cock was already reaching upward as Dorcia, on her front on the ground next to him, attempted to balance the blackberry on his slit.

“Beautiful boys, how could I resist?” Dorcia said, “One thousand one, one thousand two, one…” She caught the blackness as it tumbled, halfway down his shaft, popped it into her mouth, and grabbed another berry from the pan.

“Your amazing power of restraint,” Maev said, “Which meant you didn’t jump his bones when you first met.”

“He’s got the bone that matters,” Dorcia said as she restored his foreskin. She set the new berry there, tried to balance it.

“That’s Russian roulette,” Maev said.

“We’ve got plenty to spare,” Dorcia said, “He needs to learn to control this better. I mean, it’s a learned skill that nobody’s bothering to teach the boys. We’ve got gym, teach them to fight in football, to treat the cheerleaders as trophies. Nowhere do we teach boys how to respect the girl, nor how to handle their own dicks.”

“Keep up that training,” Ifor said.

Laughter.

“Got a name for this?” Dorcia asked as her fingers plied the side of Risley’s erection.

“Name?” Risley asked as he leaned up, propped himself on his elbows.

“You know,” Dorcia said, “I’ve read suggestions like magma, luck, magnum, angel eyes… the wizard’s staff, or even the emperor’s new robe.”

“Oh—oh!” Risley said, “Hadn’t thought about it in years.”

“What was it?” Dorcia asked as she tickled Risley’s scrotum with her left hand, while her right stroked his cock.

“Um…” Risley tried to say as he giggled, “It’s….” his voice dropped into an unintelligible mumble.

“It’s what?” Dorcia asked.

“Wo…woody…e…elf,” Risley said, “I called it woody elf.”

A squirt from the slit, Risley’s dick erupted, his sticky lava flowed down into his pubic hair.

“That explains…” Dorcia laughed.

Risley blushed.

“Yep,” Ifor said, understood the thought.

“Is that why he…mixed with a complete stranger?” Maev asked.

“She wasn’t a stranger,” Risley said.

“Oh, a minute?” Grant asked, “You aren’t now, of course, how many times have you had sex?”

“They’ve lost count,” Ifor said, laughing.

“Hey, she took one look,” Risley said, “Realized it was the dick for her. You got seconds.”

“And you got thirds?” Grant asked Ifor, “Wait—you got first—” he pointed to Maev.

“Manners!” Maev snapped.

“Sorry,” Grant said.

“Time for a confession,” Ifor said.

“I’m not going to church!” Grant said, “If you thought Bible camp was a bad idea—”

“You go to Bible Study!” Risley exclaimed.

“Like that’s a real bible study!” Grant said, “New and creative ways to piss on it?”

“Your bible study?” Dorcia asked.

“Drives Cody crazy,” Ifor said, “Unlike him….you’ve got to have faith in order for that book of faith to work how its claimed to work.”

“Cody’s the one you left behind?” Maev asked.

“He’d choose that camp over Safari World,” Risley said.

“Aw,” Maev said.

“Dorcia here, I already knew her,” Risley said, “We don’t do faces, so it was her tits I recognized—”

“Her tits?” Grant stammered.

“Its why Ifor and I have jailbroken tablets,” Risley said, “We belong to this group, online, of other teenagers like us, who’ll trash the bible because, well, it’s a work of fiction.”

“That’d get you executed,” Maev said.

“Its either that or the fact I’ve got to flash my dick to get in,” Ifor said, “Sometimes it wants me to pop a boner, or even play with it until I ejaculate.”

“I’ve not had to do that,” Risley said, “Though I’ve had to take a leak before.”

“Or—you call them orgasms?” Dorcia asked.

“Rather—fun,” Grant said.

“Point is, if it’s real, then you’re in private,” Ifor said, “I cover it up and it disconnects.”

“Obviously illegal,” Maev stated.

“Police wouldn’t wait for janitorial services,” Ifor said, “Can you imagine the damage a compromised tablet would be in the hands of a cop? No, my dick’s required before it’ll even let me tap the icon to join. Don’t have to, of course, it’s got a hidden partition that a dick will unlock. Most people won’t even think of it, but just in case, there’s a bit more so they’ll be on their way.”

“It’s also good for things that are legal but you still don’t want your kid sister butting into,” Risley said, “Mine requires it be a boner.”

“You lied to Cody, of course,” Grant said.

“Him, using his dick to unlock?” Ifor said, “No, his is stock, it’s prone to lock up and report him. I mean, you can disable the camera, of course, to avoid that.”

“Want to join?” Dorcia asked, “Let us talk after we get back?”

“Sure!” Grant said, “Can I see—?”

“She recognized my balls from it!” Risley said.

Grant laughed.

“All sex in it?” Maev asked.

“No, no,” Ifor said, “Though plenty of dick pictures if you want them.”

“No,” Maev said.

“It’s more,” Ifor said, “Want to tear the bible apart? I skim that for Bible Study ideas. Science…real science with projects? Joe’s good for that. History and politics? Talk to Jaimie, the founder of the group. Math? That’s Bishop. Virtual gaming with your dick or tits showing? Oyster or DickSnot are good for that. Electronics, talk to Shitter.”

“Shitter?” Grant asked.

“Guess he liked taking a dump?” Ifor asked.

“Whatever you do, don’t rat it out,” Risley said, “And if you find somebody you think might be a fit, remember, you’ve both got to be naked together—”

“Might take two sponsors now,” Ifor said, “They’re really, really, paranoid, for good reason.”

“Grant, we’re bringing you in once we get home,” Risley said, “Though, think of a good screen name, because you’re stuck with it, even if it was the name you gave your dick.”

“Can we…?” Maev whispered to Ifor.

Ifor got up, followed her away from the meadow, to the trail, and went up to the bench.

“You seem stressed, mind?” Ifor asked as he reached.

“Knock yourself out,” Maev said.

Ifor felt the hard point, massaged it along with her right nipple.

“This thing sounds fishy,” Maev said, “Flashing your dick for secrecy?”

“Careful is better,” Ifor said, “I’m BaldBlue—before I got this hair.” Ifor tugged on his pubic hair. “It’s not some ordinary software. And though they were likely a bit juvenile when it was written, it’s perfect, because I have to flash my dick, it keeps those out who shouldn’t be on there.”

“You’re—” her eyes glanced down at his penis peeing through the boards “—can you even use your brain for thinking? How’d you get involved? I meant the software?”

“Don’t remember,” Ifor said, “You’re inquisitive, a lesbian, you’ve got the quirks to fit in. It’s what this kid in Florida seems to like, the one who runs it. About the same age as Risley’s sister, but I—dunno, I trust his motives. Jaimie hates how religion strangles our lives, how it’s become destructive, and over bearing. Standing up for worker rights? Come on in, we’ll get you signed up.”

“Thanks,” Maev said.

“And there’s more,” Ifor said, his dick stiffened as his fingers worked into her vulva, massaged, “Take Risley, for example. To call his church Episcopalian is crude. It started as Episcopalian, but after church reforms letting gays being clergy, it broke away to be more fundamentalist, remains so even after the Episcopalians reversed. So, when Risley’s mother was in labor with him—she waded for hours in the Columbia River. The moment he emerged he was baptized in the water, even before the umbilical cord was cut.”

“Yet his dick—” Maev started.

“That’s the best part—it gets trimmed right before the man’s wedding,” Ifor said, “Talk about a rough honeymoon.”

Ifor grimaced a bit. Maev reached, held Ifor’s erection, gave a bit of a rub.

“That’ll be a shame when it happens to it because it’s a beautiful thing, his foreskin,” Ifor said, “However, Risley also talked his Vicar into letting us use the church basement to hold a study group—we’ve said it’s a Bible study, and we do, from time to time. Usually, we end up trashing it. Cody likes to defend, whereas Risley likes to attack. The group’s grown, so some defend, while I and Grant typically join in with Risley. Though, we’ll occasionally back up Cody to keep things interesting.”

“Have you considered either of those as reasons somebody would send you to a religious youth camp?” Maev said, “For the entire summer?”

“No—has to be Dad’s idea,” Ifor said, “He’s Presbyterian, and convinced I’m as enthralled about it as he is. Likely figured I’d love it. Right now, he’s absolutely convinced I’m there right now.”

“Don’t you see how dangerous you are?” Maev said to Ifor, “You’re pissing on the Bible that’s sending you to camp. You plan a getaway, and were willing to go naked to accomplish it. That it happened to help you save your butts was a lucky break. That you’re using your dick to keep your conversations secure highlights how dangerous your activities can be perceived in the eyes of others, and the author of your software understood that. They had to jailbreak the tablet so it could take your picture.”

“Mind, mine?” Ifor asked as his fingers reached for her carpet.

“Whatever,” Maev said, “You’re in a risky position.”

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” Ifor said, “Unfortunately, to do or not to, that’s water under the bridge. It’s nice…” his fingers felt the trembles within her, the seductive suggestion seeped into his mind, and felt his own spasms start up, his release. “…you’re nice too.”

“You just—” Maev started.

“Did it help?” Ifor asked.

“You’re incredibly—NAIVE!” Maev said.

“Sorry,” Ifor said, “I must’ve thought wrong.”

“I thought you didn’t like girls—” Maev said.

“I like both boys and girls,” Ifor said, Dad would never understand.”

“Will you try?” Maev asked.

“No—no—no way,” Ifor said.

“Need to get back and clean your mess,” Maev said.

Ifor stood first, Maev next. They moved carefully along the moon–lit trail back to the meadow.

“Okay, I confess,” Ifor said, “I love you too.”

“Knew it!” Maev snapped.

“Why does that matter?” Ifor said, “I know you don’t love–love, but we’re friends, alright?”

“Go with that,” Maev said.

They crossed the grass, came back to the firepit. Risley snored on Dorcia’s sleeping bag while Grant and Dorcia were still awake.

“We’ve decided,” Grant said, “Stick around until the girls need to leave—you know, so they get back to the trailhead in time.”

“In time for what?” Ifor asked.

“It’s three day hike,” Dorcia said, “And my uncle is going to pick us back up on the third.”

“Gives them a bit over a week until…” Grant said, “Until they have to leave us.”

“Wonderful,” Maev said with a dreary tone.

“We love having you around,” Ifor said, “It’s fun.”

“We know the fun,” Maev said.

“Bedtime,” Grant said as he yawned, “Who do you want to sleep with?”

“Her,” Maev said.

“I’m not moving sleeping beauty,” Dorcia said, “Your sleeping bag.”

Dorcia and Maev went into their tent.

“Yeah partner,” Grant said to Ifor.

Ifor curled onto his right side on the wide sleeping bag, used Risley’s arm for a pillow. Grant took the other side, on his left, faced Ifor. Ifor felt the fingers, the ones holding onto his testicles, soft penis, and he saw Grant’s grin. Ifor reached, held Grant’s.

“Better?” Ifor asked, feeling Grant’s erection form.

“Yeah,” Grant said.

Grant’s grip went limp as he fell to sleep first. Ifor held onto Grant’s penis for a moment, knew Cody wouldn’t understand, before he fell to sleep himself.

* * *

Friday, July 24th

Morning chimes woke up Marcia and Cody the next morning, the morning light basked their skin on the rocks.

“Shit!” Cody exclaimed.

Marcia rushed to follow Cody as they scrambled down the boulders. Toward the bottom, Cody stumbled as he started to turn for the cabin.

“This way,” Marcia shouted as she jumped past, went up the trail.

“We’re—” Cody said as he gave chase.

She ran onto the service road, aware her breasts jiggled as she ran toward the boys’ shower. She entered.

“You’re determined to get me caught!” Cody exclaimed as he cornered her beneath the shower heads, his erection jutted out.

“Well,” she said as she lathered up his hard dick, “Expelled for murder, destined for hell, might as well make the crime fit the punishment.”

“Sent by the devil?” Cody asked.

“I’d have already stabbed you in the back if I were,” Marcia said, “Worst that’ll happen? Expelled from the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve still went on to be a couple. You’re acting like you’re being watched.”

Marcia held his testicles.

“They’re watching, they’re always watching,” Cody said, “Angels ready to pounce.”

“They’re angels,” Marcia said, “No harm to us.”

“Yeah?” Cody said, “Let them watch this!”

Cody leaned over. His lips planted onto hers, and they kissed.


	21. Above

Friday, July 24th

“Wait for it,” Lovell said as he stood in the parking lot.

“Wait for what?” Alyce asked.

Whump! Whump! Whump!

“You’re going to love this,” Spencer said.

Spinning blades, the sleek black helicopter of the Portland Police set down in nearly empty parking lot.

“Really?” Alyce asked.

“Captain Sefton sends the best,” Lovell said, “We’ll do what we can. In the meanwhile, keep Cody and Marcia out of trouble.”

“Tall order,” Alyce said.

Spencer climbed into the back, Lovell got into the front left. Malcolm Beavis Ivinghoe was in the right.

“Greetings from Portland,” Malcolm said.

“Whatever you do,” Lovell said, “Don’t give me the bill until we get back.”

Malcolm pulled on the throttle, and they lifted off the ground.

“He already paid to have every septic tank pumped in that camp,” Spencer said, “Be grateful he’s not wearing _that_ uniform.”

“At least you got the rest through the cleaners, Thanks Spencer,” Lovell said, “Landcastle police first, see if their captain has anything for us. How far do you think it is, Spencer, from camp to Landcastle?”

“Minutes,” Spencer said, “Fifteen about in the car, why?”

“Nothing,” Lovell said.

“It’s never nothing with you,” Malcolm said.

Malcolm idled the throttle, and they landed on the field of uneven grass. Lovell got out first, Spencer followed, and both headed for Captain Shrader outside the building.

“Another pet theory?” asked Captain Shrader as they entered the decrepit building.

Lovell stepped around a worker with a construction hat laying down a tape measure. Spencer stepped over the toolbox. They walked past the peeling paint, and entered the cramped office half filled by the desk of a clerk. Lovell glanced at Spencer, who closed the door.

“Portland must have a rich budget to spare a chopper,” Captain Shrader said.

“If it were the son to one of your deputies, or your grandson, would you make the same quibble?” Lovell picked up the school picture of the youngest boy on the Captain’s desk. “You can go home right now and hold him in your arms—I cannot. I’ve cashed in every IOU I’ll ever made, will ever earn, and I’ll call it a fair bargain to have that chance again.”

“Fraternal loyalty runs deep,” Captain Shrader said.

“It does,” Lovell said, “I have searched the camp, a bit flamboyant, but it has been searched. We found things that kids wished to remain lost, and we honored them by returning most of it back to where it was intended. However, there was no sign of the three I seek, therefore, it is reasonable to conclude at this time that they are not there. There is reason to believe that a plane was involved.”

“That’s a bit ludicrous,” Captain Shrader said.

“Is it?” Lovell said, “This state is awash in planes—it’s a rather common mode of travel. We’ve been making inquires to local pilots, hoping one of them might have either seen or heard something to shed light on this. Certainly, you must know of some people who could help.”

“He gets this way when he’s determined,” Spencer said.

“Everybody in this state has at least a passing familiarity,” Captain Shrader said, “Even I could, if pressed, likely get somewhere—mind you, I’ve been meaning to get licensed myself.”

“Any leads?” Lovell asked.

“Alright, I accept the possibility that they flew,” Captain Shrader said, “Suppose that makes sense, one of the counselors was about to take his test and could’ve pulled it off. Mind you, it’d be theft of an aircraft too. However, even with their public defenders, they weren’t saying much.”

“Please make some inquiries,” Lovell said, “All I want is to bring my son—all three back to Portland with me.”

“I understand,” Captain Shrader said, “You can count on that.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said.

“You’re dismissed,” Captain Shrader said.

Lovell moved to open the door, caught it as it came unhinged. Lovell adjusted the door while Spencer tapped the pin back in.

“It likes to do that,” Captain Shrader said.

Lovell and Spencer returned to the helicopter. Lovell sat in the front while Spencer sat in the back.

“And—?” Malcolm asked.

“Donald’s here, right?” Lovell said, “Lets see if he’s dug up those flight records. Anchorage, please.”

“I’ll top off when we’re there,” said Malcolm, as he pulled on the throttle, and they began to lift off, “Be careful with the flight hours, I’m out on a limb as it is.”

“Oh?” Lovell asked.

“I didn’t exactly give Captain Sefton the option to refuse,” Malcolm said, “I’ll be strict about parking it until we’ve got a better sense of where we’re flying to.”

“Thank you—I know I’ll be saying it a thousand times, but thank you,” Lovell said, “And I mean it.”

“Has Ifor had a ride in one of these?” Malcolm said, “I’ll see to it—assuming success, of course.”

“Keep it up, it helps to think positively,” Lovell said, “And I need all the reminders.”

Twenty minutes later, they landed at Anchorage’s Merrill Field.

“Save me a cup,” Malcolm said.

Lovell and Spencer got out.

“Something’s still nagging you,” Spencer said, “What’s out of place?”

“Not saying, enough to know something’s up,” Lovell said, “We don’t have the full picture.”

Spencer and Lovell walked over to the low lying building, and entered the Bear Wings, a pilot’s lounge.

“I’ll get the Joe,” Spencer said, “Room in the back.”

Lovell walked between the tables, to the back, and went through.

“Lovell!” came Donald’s exclaim, a bit pudgy of a middle aged man.

“Good seeing you too,” Lovell said.

“Mind telling me what’s nagging you?” Donald asked.

“Timing between when Alyce first arrived at camp and when we got our summons—it feels off,” Lovell said.

“After she showed up, right?” Donald asked.

“But not long after,” Lovell said, “Like somebody knew what she’d find.”

“I would not be surprised,” Donald said, “Wait for them.”

Malcolm and Spencer came in a couple of moments later. Lovell took a cup, sipped it.

“Better than up there,” Lovell said, “I appreciate their generosity, of course.”

“Spencer said Captain Shrader had his doubts,” Malcolm said.

“He doubts this whole line of reasoning,” Lovell said, “Yet, if we accept them as flying somewhere deeper into Alaska, it provides better leads than a week’s worth of turning that camp upside down. He’s lukewarm if we imply the camp counselors—all but one checked in late due to flight delays into Ted Stevens, which we verified.”

Lovell paused as he paced, cup in hand.

“Maybe it’s better for publicity,” Lovell said, “Camp counselors gone rogue make for a more sympathetic story than runaways.”

“Keep up the illusion,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, Alyce and Marcia will stay until the camp’s hospitality wears out,” Lovell said.

“You’re sure they made it up here?” Malcolm asked.

“Cody said they did,” Lovell said, “We’ve got a bit of video in Ted Stevens.”

“I checked passenger manifests, cross checked it with security,” Donald said, “After some exhaustive calling—thank Captain Sefton for assistance there, we found a few people willing to share pictures, and our boys are in the background. We also know they did not make their scheduled bus for camp, because we got them in a taxi—the destination was not recorded and dispatch logs described it as a local hop. So, if it were to be an airplane, someplace like here, Merrill Field, would be a reasonable destination. Spencer and I canvased the businesses, but none yielded any results.”

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t fly,” Lovell said.

“Of course not,” Donald said, “An enterprising private pilot might agree to a charter even if it’s technically illegal for them to do so. Also, I tracked that shipment to here, Merrill Field, after which, it went cold. Therefore, it’s reasonable to conclude it was picked up here.”

Donald sipped on his straw.

“There’s something you’re dancing around,” Lovell said.

Spencer chewed on the doughnut, swallowed.

“Brace yourself,” Spencer said, “Our tale seemed familiar. It’s not unheard of for people to fly into the wilderness and vanish, never to be heard from again. At least the camp theory was limited, would’ve made for faster answers.”

“Between the shipment and taxi,” Donald said, “I’m confident the boys volunteered in what they were doing, and came here to board either a plane or a helicopter. Whether it turned out as expected, that’s a different matter.”

“Anything more is conjecture, partner,” Spencer said to Lovell, “Lets bring them home.”

“Well, what of the radar tracks?” Lovell asked.

“I’m but one man,” Donald said.

“He means…” Malcolm grabbed the stack of tablets, handed them over. “Four pairs of eyes are better than one.”

Lovell took the tablet, a map of Alaska with a bunch of white trails on it, knew one of the many streaks likely represented the flight his son took. A ring, Donald glanced at his phone.

“Be back in a moment,” Donald said as he left.

“There’s a lot of them here,” Lovell admitted as he yawned.

“You didn’t sleep well last night, did you?” Spencer asked.

“How can I?” Lovell said, “I close my eyes, but I can’t sleep, afraid I missed something crucial. I think I got four hours last night.”

Donald came back.

“That was the lab,” Donald said.

“The tablet?” Lovell asked.

“That was not an ordinary tablet—it self–destructed,” Donald said, “I mean, they think it had sophisticated software on it. As they tried to clone it for analysis, the chips were destroyed despite the tablet being powered off with its battery removed. Yet—poof, it’s unrecoverable at this point.”

“Why would a sixteen year old have that type of tablet?” Malcolm asked, “Is’t that—”

“Espionage grade encryption in the hands of teenage boys?” Spencer said, “I wager they used it to trade fart jokes.”

Lovell laughed. Spencer grabbed a doughnut.

“Before I was interrupted,” Donald said, “I was going to suggest we narrow the search. As far as we know, they took off from here, though it could be nearby too. To hire a pilot and fly them into the bush, there are plenty who’d do that. A typical Cessna would have a range around five or six hundred miles—but this one would have three boys and plenty of food to last ten weeks, the time they were supposed to be at camp. Therefore, we want a flight that starts here and stops no more than three or four hundred miles from here.”

“That’s still a lot of area to cover,” Malcolm said.

“How many flights took off from here only to vanish somewhere in the wilderness?” Donald asked.

“Makes sense,” Spencer said.

Lovell keyed in the parameters, hit _Find_ and waited a moment.

“Thirty two,” Lovell said.

“Now, how many with a similar track to reappear in, say, up to an hour later?” Donald said, “That’d be enough time to unload, get settled or the like, before the pilot left.

“Twenty one,” Lovell said, “Plus one that looks a bit weird, maybe he missed something, or was looking for something, like he hopped around.”

“We’ll make that one last because we’ve got a range ourselves, and we can cover these others faster,” Malcolm said as he tapped, “We’ll start here.” He pointed south of Anchorage, toward the Kenai Fjords.

“Let’s go,” Lovell said.

“You know me,” Donald said, “I’d rather sit it out and save my stomach. Let me know how it goes.”

“Send the other locations to the Civil Air Patrol,” Spencer suggested.

“Good idea,” Malcolm said, “I’ll be five minutes or so, I’m filing a flight plan.”

Spencer and Lovell walked out of the building, along the tarmac, where the sleek black Portland Police Helicopter with twin turbine engines was parked next to a number of small Cessna airplanes.

“What’s bothering you?” Spencer said, “I thought—”

“We could find them alive,” Lovell said, “But this could also be one step closer to finding them not…”

“You owe it to them and to us!” Spencer said.

“I know,” Lovell said, “Doesn’t make it easier.”

“We’ve got your back,” Spencer said and repeated, “We’ve got your back on this.”

Malcolm walked over, his boots made their distinctive sound, and they got in. A minute later, the blades began to spin. Malcolm took them up slowly, lifted them over Anchorage.

“Smaller than Portland,” Malcolm said, “And not much around it either.”

“Wonder…” Spencer tapped on his tablet from the back. “Portland is nearly the same population as this state. Factor in the entire Portland area, and it’s over three times.”

“But a much bigger state to get lost in,” Lovell said.

“We’ll find them,” Malcolm said, “You can count on that.”

They headed south.

“Okay, five minutes out from the first one,” Malcolm said, “Keep your eyes open.”

Lovell focused out of the helicopter. Beneath them, a road, a cluster of mail boxes, some houses; fields with an assortment of animals including cows, pigs, and chickens. They flew over an oddly placed vegetable patch before they came to more houses.

“Community or a commune,” Spencer said, “Not it.”

“Agreed,” Lovell said.

Ten minutes later they came across a log cabin billowing smoke with a well aged man sitting on the porch step.

“Lets ask him,” Lovell said, “Take it down.”

“Got to be kidding,” Spencer remarked.

“We’re already here,” Malcolm said as he reduced the power, brought the helicopter to rest in front of the cabin.

“You’re on,” Spencer said to Lovell.

“I’m staying in here,” Malcolm remarked.

Lovell grabbed a flyer and stepped out of the helicopter, Spencer followed. They approached the porch.

“Excuse me,” Lovell said, “Mind if I ask—”

“Don’t like cops,” the man said.

“My son’s missing,” Lovell said, holding out a printout of the three faces, “He’s missing along with two of his buddies, about a month ago. Have you seen him?”

“I don’t—why’d you show me this?!” the man said as he shook his cane at them, “Trying to think you can bring Webster back—”

“Who’s Webster?” Lovell asked.

“My son—been twenty one years—” the man said.

“What’s his name?” Spencer asked, notepad in his hand.

“Webster Percy Hovewood,” the man said, “Now off!”

“If you hear anything—contact me,” Lovell said as he handed the man the photo and a business card.

“Come,” Spencer said.

Spencer and Lovell returned to the helicopter. Malcolm took off.

“Can you find anything?” Lovell asked.

“Webster…Webster,” Spencer said as he tapped into a tablet, “Okay, Webster Percy Hovewood, killed twenty one years ago—Pheasant Run—”

“Not that massacre!” Malcolm exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, “That must’ve been Fredrick. His wife and his kids were among the victims—bloody atheists. He took to alcohol, got fired for it, then must’ve moved here.”

Lovell had trouble imagining it, and he only had one son to worry about.

* * *

Saturday, July 25th

Cody put the easels down onto the rocks at the end of the lake.

“Nothing yet?” Cody asked.

“Mr. Ulverston is a divided man,” Alyce said, “On one hand, he is a father with a missing son, but on the other, he is a cop. Right now, they are in competition and the Lord will help him adjust.”

Marcia grabbed a brush, put it to canvas. Cody used a pencil, drew lines on his canvas.

“This was a pleasant idea Cody,” Alyce said, “However, forgiveness will only come with Risley.”

“Understood Ma’am,” Cody said.

Marcia giggled, her eyes on Cody holding the pencils.

“Just don’t forget who her brother is,” Alyce said.

“I won’t,” Cody said.

Cody worked on drawing the lake as a whole, while Alyce focused on framing the docks with the rowboats.

* * *

“You’re into running, right?” Risley said, “I mean, with a screen name like SprinterWV, at least at one point?”

Risley surveyed the curves, the sculpted bare legs on display as she also came to a halt on the trail with him.

“Yes,” Dorcia said, “Track and cross country in school—I would’ve gone to the all–star match, but…camp.”

“So, you stretch a lot?” Risley asked.

“You mean like this?” Dorcia lifted her right leg behind her, brought her calf muscle to her thigh.

Risley stepped behind her, examined the crack of her buttocks as it now titled to her left.

“This needs an inspection!” Risley announced as he knelt in front of her.

“If you want to be be a pervert, say so,” Dorcia said.

Risley’s hands felt into her thigh, massaged. However, his eyes moved from this to the lace around her vulva, and he lifted her thigh a bit more, brought it to rest on his shoulder. His own erection against her right calf muscle, he brought his tongue out to clean around the opening. She giggled for the couple of moments Risley took, before he refocused his eyes and pulled the flaps apart to peer inward.

“Eww—a tick—” Risley lied, moved his fingers to push inward.

“Your penis tattles on you faster than Pinocchio’s nose,” Dorcia said, “If you’re interested, say so and tell me you’re interested.”

“Alright, alright,” Risley said, “Pretend there’s one. If there were, there’s only one thing I can think of.”

Risley returned her leg to the ground before he stood. He fed his hard dick between her lines, his tip felt the warmth as it entered her.

“It’s a new approach, grant you that,” Dorcia said.

“I’ve ridden with the Portland cops,” Risley said, as he slid his stiff penis between the walls within her, “You bet they’ve got a procedure for everything, including a couple—as they called it, intermingling.”

“Going for the naughty angle?” Dorcia said, “I’m game.” She kissed him.

Risley flexed his hips, faster, as his hard shaft rode between them. He continued until he felt his shudder, and held tight. His testicles against her skin, he felt his pulsating release and waited.

“So,” Risley said, “If you did get a tick up there, that’s how I’d get it out of there.”

Risley pulled out, stood there with a bit of off–white on the slit of a slick softening dick.

“Somehow, I doubt that’d be effective,” Dorcia said.

“Worth a try,” Risley said as they walked, “Something different.”

“There’s a book I heard about,” Dorcia said, “Might’ve been mentioned on the chat—Kama Sutra.”

“Lets get it,” Risley said.

“And illegal,” Dorcia said, “As in people get killed over it.”

“Oh,” Risley said, “Likely as good as the handbook.”

“Handbook?” Dorcia asked.

Risley explained the Penis Handbook.

“I’d like to read it,” Dorcia said.

“It’s Grant’s,” Risley said, “We think it was a prank from Blake—his older brother. Still, good reading, because I think I know my dick better.”

“Good,” Dorcia said.

They walked on the stones to cross a shallow stream cutting their path.

“Can I ask you something?” Risley asked.

“You already did,” Dorcia said.

“You were naked when you came across us,” Risley said, “I mean, it’s not usual to decide to strip. Why?”

“Complaining?” Dorcia asked.

“No…no,” Risley said, “We…I know myself, I know them better, suppose it does make me more confident when I’m no longer embarrassed about my penis or what it does.”

“I like chatting online naked,” Dorcia said.

“Me too,” Risley said, “Think I won’t bother with the lockouts anymore, let it all show.”

“No particularly good reason—I’ve still got my clothes,” Dorcia said, “But back home, I’d slip into the woods behind the house during the summer, or late evening. Or, at home when I’m running the laundry, or a bit more often—Danny’d rather I be naked in the bedroom, he gets off on me, so I’m not a stranger to horny boys.”

“So I noticed,” Risley said.

They laughed.

“Grampa wanted me to choose Yellowstone,” Dorcia said, “But that’s got enough visitors, and I guess I wanted sunshine on my skin, so I found the stats for Denali and decided it was risk–free, not to mention your suggestion.”

“Glad you took it,” Risley said.

“Maev, I wasn’t certain, but I stripped outside the trailhead,” Dorcia said, “Now that I know her and realize she appreciated it, no regrets. You were the first person we came across. Though I wasn’t expecting to fuck, and so…openly.”

Risley snorted.

“Thank you,” Risley said, “You’re fun to be around—I’d like to keep you.”

She laughed.

“I’m serious,” Risley said.

“Oh, I’m already spoken for,” Dorcia said, “I’m supposed to marry Wallace.”

Risley spat, his spit flew to the ground.

“That’s not what I meant,” Risley said, “Visit us in Portland, hang out for a while. I could show you around, though we might have to dress for it.”

“But if you—” Dorcia started.

“Come for a visit,” Risley said, “Make certain the return ticket is refundable.”

“Guess that’s a bit forward,” Dorcia said, “Wallace’s okay and all, I suppose he’ll make me happy. I mean, that’s what cousins are for.”

“You’ve been serious with that? He’s … your … cousin?” Risley said, “You’re marrying your cousin?”

“It’s normal,” Dorcia said, “Dad…he’s never not drunk… he and Uncle Hart agreed to it, so that’s that.”

“They arranged it?” Risley said, “No, not normal—it’s creepy.”

“It’s what our parents are for, tell us what we’re to do with our lives,” Dorcia said, “I mean, your mother’s making you become a civil engineer!”

“I don’t like that either—but it’s a decent job, and no obligation I keep working for my mother after I turn twenty one,” Risley said, “You’re talking a life sentence, or death sentence if you listen to Grant’s Dad.”

“You’re more fun to be around,” Dorcia said as she rubbed his left bicep, “All three of you are comic.”

“Visit,” Risley said, “I mean it.”

Risley smiled as they kept walking.

* * *

Spencer watched out the front window, focused on the large mountain, as the black Portland Police Helicopter flew along that afternoon, woods and the wilderness beneath them. Lovell was more focused on the map from his spot in the back.

“Pretty mountain,” Spencer said, “Mount McKinley, I believe.”

“Locals prefer to call it Denali,” Malcolm said.

“I’d rather see Mt. Hood or Mt. St. Helens, or even Mt. Adams,” Lovell said, “With Ifor.”

“We know,” Spencer said.

“We’re almost there,” Malcolm said.

“What’s that?!” Lovell pointed.

“See it too,” Malcolm said, rolling the helicopter.

An orange box, one with a youthful brown haired man sitting on top of it. In torn underwear and a white T–shirt, the man had white medical tape haphazardly wrapped on the left leg. While a few bears were in the trees across from the clearing, a pack of wolves were a dozen feet away.

“Hurry,” Spencer said.

Malcolm lowered the helicopter, its legs passed within a few feet of the tree tops. He flew over the wolves, the pack dispersed halfway to the trees, and he landed the helicopter next to the box with the young man. Lovell jumped out first, his right hand readied on the pistol on his belt, and walked over to the man.

“What?!” the man said, “Been trying—” his fingers kept pressing down on a button on the small black transponder.

“Need a lift?” Lovell asked.

“Yes,” the fellow said.

Spencer came over, his weapon drawn and aimed toward the wolves overcoming their fear.

“Hurry,” Lovell said.

“My leg,” the man said.

Lovell reached around the man’s waist, helped him hop to the helicopter. Spencer made a fast run, grabbed the backpack, and loaded it into the helicopter. Lovell grabbed a blanket, handed it to the man, who blushed as he covered up his underwear.

“We’re borderline on the weight,” Malcolm said as he began to lift the helicopter up.

“Portland—here?” the man said, “I’m grateful, bless you.”

“Who are you?” Spencer asked.

“I’m Duke, Duke Austin,” he said, “Thank you for spotting me. I went hiking last month—I think I broke my leg. I made it back but those wolves have my pants.”

“I’m looking for my son and his two friends,” Lovell said as he handed over a printout, “They also went hiking last month, flew out about the same time as you.”

“Sorry,” Duke said, “I wish I could—but no, I don’t recognize them.”

Lovell sighed.

“Afraid I was more worried about missing my charter,” Duke said, “For what it’s worth, I hope you find them—I mean that. St. Anthony should help.”

* * *

Sunday, July 26th

It was late Sunday morning when the helicopter parted ways with the Civil Air Patrol fixed wing aircraft.

“Two more left to go,” Malcolm said, “Three if we include that bumblebee.”

“Frustrating,” Lovell said, “We’re finding everything else. Anybody lose their car keys? We’ll probably find those first!”

“Calm down,” Spencer said, “We’ll find them.”

An half hour later, they reached the first of their targets.

“What’s that?” Spencer asked as he pointed.

“I see it too,” Lovell said, seeing the large section, “Blue.”

“Tarp and deserted,” Malcolm said.

“Let’s look,” Spencer said.

Malcolm lowered the helicopter, brought it down onto the grassy dirt.

“Warning, watch the blades—they’re going to spin,” Malcolm said, “I’m coming out to help.”

“Thanks,” Lovell said.

All three walked over to the torn section of blue tarp.

“Somebody’s camp,” Spencer said, “Most likely.”

“Look around,” Lovell said.

“We’re burning fuel on the ground,” Malcolm said, “Don’t take too long.”

They walked in three separate directions.

“Found something!” Spencer announced, lifted up a small cooking pot.

“Yeah,” Lovell muttered under his breath, the apprehension, unsure if he’d actually manage the news.

Lovell came across another shred of blue, darker.

“Oh no!” Lovell said a bit louder, he bent down.

Spencer ran over fast as Lovell lifted up the small blue scrap of denim.

“Blue jean…” Spencer started before he stopped. Lovell knew the implication, that Spencer tried to stop.

Spencer planted a small orange marker flag into the ground, when he glanced and walked. Lovell knew that gait, followed as Spencer planted another orange flag. Spencer turned, tried to hide the badly chewed right shoe. Lovell, however, grabbed it, read the inside tongue of it.

“Size eight and a half,” Lovell said, “None of them wore this. Let’s move on.”

“That shoe fit somebody,” Spencer said.

“Let the Alaska Police know about it, of course,” Lovell said, “It’s not the one we’re looking for.”

“Are you forgetting your oath?” Spencer asked.

“We’re burning fuel,” Lovell said, “My son’s—”

“Alright, mark this location,” Spencer said as he put the shoe into a plastic bag.

They returned to the helicopter, got in.

“Not good,” Malcolm said, “We’re getting a bit low on fuel.”

“The bumblebee’s not too far away,” Lovell said.

“That’s as far as we can go,” Malcolm said as he pulled up on the throttle and they took off.

“Ifor’s out there,” Lovell said, “Likely as scared as that boy we found yesterday.”

“We’ll find him,” Spencer assured, “Rescue him.”

* * *

Ifor’s hard erection jutted out, and he wondered if anybody was using a telescope to watch it as his toes felt the bits of gravel beneath their toes; they walked the last quarter mile along the ridge, those bits of gravel tumbled, until they came to the large area with a mild slope for a half dozen yards from the boulder of the peak. Ifor knew the four behind him were accustomed to his buttocks, could see his balls beneath them as he scrambled up the six feet of the rock. Ifor stood in the middle, his bare feet perched on the top.

“He’s happy,” Risley said.

Ifor was happy as he was with friends, with a view in nearly every direction as the landscaped dropped away from this peak at the end of the ridge. Denali to the south, the saddle in the ridges to the southwest toward their camp, and heat from the stone surface loosened his testicles. His loose sack of his balls put a smile to Dorcia’s face as she studied those along with his flat, weathered, chest. She scrambled up, stood next to him.

“How far is it?” Dorcia asked.

“Dunno,” Ifor said, “Twenty—thirty miles—more? We’ll climb Mt. Hood when you visit Portland. Bit more to that view, but also can’t take a leak that far either.”

“Be worth it to watch you try,” Dorcia said.

“I mean—” Ifor said, “We can’t really piss two yards, so it definitely can’t make it over the cliff from here.”

“Same thought I had,” Risley said as he climbed up to join.

“Here,” Grant said as he used his hands to give Maev a step up. She climbed, Grant followed.

All five of them stood on the rock less than a few feet wide.

“Not even an orgasm could do it,” Grant said, “I mean, you’d clear the rock but not—”

“Wanna?” Risley asked.

“Do what?” Dorcia asked before her eyes glanced down at Risley circling his right index finger and thumb around his soft dick, and pulled it forward. “Oh, that—here?”

“Yeah,” Risley said.

“We’ve been doing that—” Dorcia started.

“Here? Too dangerous,” Grant said, “Easy to lose balance.”

“Challenge accepted,” Dorcia and Risley replied.

Risley whispered into her ear.

“Sure,” Dorcia replied.

Dorcia pushed Ifor’s legs apart, squeezed as she got onto her hands and knees beneath him, his balls rested on her back. Risley straddled her legs.

“Giving me the show?” Ifor asked.

“She likes your balls,” Risley said.

Risley crouched until his pelvis was behind her, his soft penis dangled.

“You’re not even ready!” Grant said.

Dorcia spread her legs as best as she could, bent further beneath Ifor. A golden spray came out, soaked Risley’s genitals, his crotch, and his pubic hair. Risley’s penis jumped, stiffened fast into a hard erection, and he pushed it against her skin; it went in.

“You’re not forcing that on me,” Maev said, standing next to Grant and his stiffening erection.

“No—no,” Ifor said, “If it’s ever forced—scream as loud as you can, or beat the crap out of them.”

“That part’s easy, just—” Maev turned and widened her eyes, “BOO!”

“I should move,” Ifor said, as Risley drilled Dorcia a foot in front of him, Ifor’s balls on her back beneath his own erection.

“No,” Grant said, “I’m curious if this can set you off Ifor.”

Risley, though, held his crotch against Dorcia for a moment. Risley pulled out, his slit clouded with semen as he stood up.

“Suppose—” Dorcia started.

“No,” Grant said, “For Maev’s benefit.”

“Huh?” Dorcia asked as she crawled out, stood up.

Grant squatted in front of Ifor.

“What?” Ifor asked.

“You need it,” Grant said as his mouth wrapped itself around the tip of Ifor’s penis. Grant’s nose buried itself into Ifor’s fluffy pubic hair.

“This is different,” Risley said, “What’s the wager you lost?”

“I didn’t ask—” Ifor said.

“Embrace it,” Maev said.

Ifor’s instincts tried to fight, as this wasn’t a game with chance, this was a simple favor. Ifor felt the tongue caressing the foreskin and the glans, the sucking, and the breath. It was Grant, a friend doing a good turn, in the open in front of witnesses, and Ifor felt his flesh acquiesce. It went fast, the pressure, the quiver, before that first spasm. Grant pulled back, and Ifor’s ejaculating cock splattered across the face. Grant turned his head, spat out that first volley onto the rock.

“I think we’ve finished,” Dorcia said, glancing at Grant with a soft and flaccid circumcised dick.

“Um…if you think so,” Maev said.

“I suppose…” Dorcia said as she crouched back down in front of Maev.

Maev stumbled, but caught herself on Dorcia.

“We’ll get down,” Ifor said, “Give you space.”

Risley scrambled down first, Ifor followed. They turned around as Maev laid on the rock. Dorcia carefully started by licking between Maev’s legs.

“So you and Grant—?” Risley asked Ifor.

“Can it!” Ifor snapped.

Ifor understood the implication, knowing Risley’s discomfort with the conclusion, and hoped it wasn’t the end of the friendship.

“Stay,” Dorcia said as Grant had already turned, “Enjoy.”

Grant stepped around, glanced at Ifor and Risley, before he returned to the study of Maev and Dorcia. Grant’s fingers ran along his own circumcised hard erection, hit his wild pubic hair with each stroke, and stood over them. Dorcia’s tongue kept working to clean Maev’s front, each nipple.

“That I can understand,” Risley stated.

“You know the unwritten rule,” Ifor said, “Everybody gets at least one.”

“You weren’t expecting Grant, were you?” Risley asked.

“Hush!” Ifor said, “Trying to watch—it’s the respectable thing to do.”

Grant squatted, near Maev’s midriff, cock aimed across her. Grant tensed before his dick erupted, his off–white semen flew, partially hit Maev. Dorcia moved, licked at it. Grant jumped down off the rock, dick still dripping as he stood next to Risley.

“Trying to prove—?” Risley asked.

“Ifor likes it—understand?” Grant said, “I’m man enough to do it for a friend.”

“Um…thanks,” Ifor said.

“But that makes you—” Risley started.

“A friend,” Grant said, “If you asked, I’d do it for you too.”

“No,” Risley stated.

“Then I don’t have to worry about you,” Grant said, “And before you argue about it, no I’m not interested in Ifor that way, but he’s my friend, and so I’ll do it because of that. It’s like wiping his ass.”

“Um…I’m not certain what to say,” Ifor said.

“Thank you more than suffices,” Grant said, “And you’re blushing.”

“Didn’t realize you were gay!” Risley snapped at Ifor.

“I like girls,” Ifor said.

“There’s such a thing as both,” Grant said, “I checked the handbook!”

“Oh,” Risley said, “Don’t really understand.”

“He’s more than willing to help you understand,” Grant said.

“Do you all need another?” asked Dorcia, now standing next to them.

“Um…we already did,” Ifor said.

“Boys are so limited when it comes to that,” Maev said.

“Lets move before those get roasted,” Dorcia said as she tapped each of their scrotums.

They returned along the ridge, back to the trail.

…

Maev gripped Risley’s shoulder, let Grant, Dorcia, and Ifor move a bit ahead.

“What?” Risley asked.

“How are you doing?” Maev asked.

“What? Why?” Risley stammered.

“I mean, about your friend,” Maev said, “You seemed irked to learn he liked boys too.”

“I—I…” Risley stuttered.

“How long have you known him?” Maev asked.

“Never, apparently,” Risley said.

“See his butt?” Maev said, “I mean, really, look at it.”

Risley glanced at it. A crack between the two flexing buttocks, the dark star of the anus, the backside of the scrotum, with the chisel foreskin tipped soft penis that swung with his gait.

“You’ve all talked about how the start of your hike was,” Maev said, “Remember it, after he bared it to you?”

“Bit cleaner, I think,” Risley said.

Maev snorted a bit. “What would he say about yours? The same?”

“I suppose,” Risley said.

“Now, he’s bared another secret, one he’s nervous on how you’d take it,” Maev said, “He still wants to be your friend. Didn’t you want a summer, together? As you’re naked, that means you’re sharing intimate secrets, like your piss fetish.”

“I’m not—” Risley started.

“You were aroused by it—fastest I’ve seen you pop it, so you’re only fooling yourself to deny it,” Maev said, “Embrace it and embrace Ifor for his bisexuality—that’s what it is. I accept it and I’m a lesbian.”

“You and him—” Risley started.

“Do not confuse matters,” Maev said, “I’m into Dorcia and girls. Ifor is charming and I made an exception for him and only for him.”

Risley scratched his head.

“You’re handsome too,” Maev continued, “If I were into boys, I’d let you in. So for the question you’ve yet to answer, do you accept Ifor, as he is?”

“I suppose so,” Risley said, “I’m not keen on the thought of him getting off—”

“You’ve gotten off on me and I’m a lesbian,” Maev said, “He’s not asking for you to give him a blow job or for him to blow you. He’s asking for acceptance of his secret, like you’ve accepted his dirty ass.”

“I guess I can do that,” Risley said.

“Though if you’re interested in a blowjob,” Maev said, “I’m sure he’d accept.”

“No thanks,” Risley said.

Risley stared at Ifor’s butt a bit more, knew the danger it was in, and that Ifor’s old man would not accept that revelation. Risley wondered if Lovell Ulverston is the type who’d rather have a dead son over a bisexual one.

* * *

“That wasn’t as short as we had thought,” Malcolm said, “Fuel is—” he tapped on the gauge “—too new to be wrong. We don’t have time to—”

“There!” Spencer said as he pointed, “I saw something.”

Malcolm brought the helicopter to cross the stream, landed near a small tree in the middle of a grass meadow.

“Don’t loiter and you alone,” Malcolm said to Spencer.

Spencer ran over to the tree, picked up a silvered metal oval, four inches wide, three high, and came back into the helicopter with it. Malcolm pulled on the throttle, and they rose.

“We’re out of time,” Malcolm said, “Pray for a good tail wind.”

“What is it?” Lovell asked.

“Belt buckle,” Spencer said as he turned it over, “Wild Trekkers—it’s Risley’s.”

“We have to go—” Lovell started as he reached for the stick.

“LEAVE THE CONTROLS ALONE!” Malcolm barked, “Get him into the back.”

Lovell tensed up as Spencer forcefully pulled with both hands.

“Come on,” Spencer said.

Lovell relented, moved into the back seat.

“I know exactly where that was,” Malcolm said, “We’ll be back in the morning with enough fuel—unless you want to get stuck out here.”

“It’s…” Lovell started, focused on the bit of metal, Risley’s name etched on the backside.

“All we have is one belt buckle,” Spencer said, “Means we’re one step closer, but doesn’t mean much else.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Lovell said.

“We understand that,” Spencer said, “We need to gas up and we need to sleep. We’ve got a much better chance of finding something in the morning, well rested, and with help.”

“See if we have something in the medkit,” Malcolm said.

“Don’t sedate me!” Lovell snapped.

“If we have anything, I’ll give it to you myself,” Spencer said.

Lovell stared out the window, watched the shadow of the mountain move as they flew, knew his son was out there.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Malcolm dropped Spencer and Lovell off at the Beacon of the Light camp. Spencer escorted Lovell to the guest campsite, to their shared cabin.

“Get some sleep,” Spencer said, “I’ll take care of this.”

Spencer went over to the next cabin, and knocked before he entered.

“Alyce,” Spencer said.

Alyce jumped as she woke from her slumber, pulled her blanket tight around her. Spencer handed her the bit of metal.

“I don’t understand,” Alyce said.

“Risley’s Wild Trekkers belt buckle,” Spencer said, “Don’t read anything other than he lost his belt. It could be everything or nothing, first good lead we’ve had. We didn’t have time to search for anything else, we’ll go back in the morning after Malcolm gets rested. Now, I need you to watch Lovell—”

“He’s not—?” Alyce started.

“That he kept his cool as long as he has—but he has limits and we have to ground him,” Spencer said, “Tomorrow will be rough for all of us, whatever we may find.”

“Um… thank you for letting me know,” Alyce said.

Spencer left, waited outside his cabin, heard the crying within.


	22. Evidence

Monday, July 27th

Cody ignored the footsteps outside the showers. Cody pressed his lips against Marcia’s while his hard erection pushed inward, the warm water flowed over them both. Cody felt his balls hit her as he flexed his hips. Cody knew the timing as the pressure built and the spasm started. He held himself against her, his pubic hair on her skin, as he used her to avoid stumbling and let his stiff penis drain into her. Pulsations and contractions, it was passionate, and he’d make up with the Lord later. Marcia moaned a bit, let go of the water handle. Cody’s dick pulled out before he caught her, and they laughed.

“Don’t think we come here to clean anymore, do we?” Marcia asked

Cody shook his head as they walked over to their pile of clothes.

“Nice morning ritual,” Cody stated.

Cody pulled his red T–shirt over him.

“No more streaking today?” Marcia asked.

“Heh,” Cody said, “It’s your mother’s wanting to see us! Not showing her that.”

Blue jeans, socks, and shoes, Cody secured his belt with his Wild Trekkers belt buckle as he waited for Marcia to secure her shorts. They left the building. A few minutes later, they went down the hill on the trail, entered the otherwise empty dining hall. They grabbed their trays with food from the counter in the kitchen, carried them to the corner by the window. Alyce was there, fiddling with the silvered metal oval between her fingers.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Cody bit into his pancakes. Marcia sat next to him.

“Regained your appetite?” Alyce asked.

“That’s…” Marcia snapped the oval from her mother’s hands, glanced at Cody’s belt, before she flipped it over. “Risley’s—where?”

“Sgt. Piper didn’t say where,” Alyce said, “Only that they found it.”

Cody immediately shoved his tray of food away, only a few bites on it. Sgt. Lovell Ulverston walked over, sat down at the table, but kept his head down.

“I’m sorry—” Cody started.

“Bit LATE for that,” Lovell snapped.

“Oh, there you are!” Captain Shrader approached, with new metal glinting from his uniform, and he adjusted his large brimmed hat.

“Anything we can do?” Lovell asked.

“Checking in on Mrs. Gillespie here,” Captain Shrader said, “See if there was anything—apart from finding her son—”

“His belt buckle,” Cody announced as he held up the oval shaped bit of meta.

“Where did you find—?” Captain Shrader started to ask of Cody.

“Sgt. Piper found it last night and gave it to her,” Lovell said, “They’ve gone out to search for more—wish I were there.”

“Out there?” Captain Shrader said, “I should’ve heard about this—” he held up the buckle for a moment and gave it to Alyce “—last night. Honestly, you ought to be here, not there—you’re too attached to be impartial, and you understand it. I humored you because I’ve been in your shoes whenever one of my kids wandered a bit too far, so I know what it’s like, the determination yet rage at uncertainty. You are human and a father, both proud yet fallible, so listen to me; your best chance at getting your boys is to trust in the fraternity of your fellow officers. Can you do this?”

“I guess—yes,” Lovell said.

“It’s not easy, I know that,” Captain Shrader said. He patted Lovell on the back, “I’ll go out there myself on your behalf.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said.

Captain Shrader’s boots echoed on the well worn wooden floor as he walked between the support posts and left the dining hall. Lovell turned to Cody.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too,” Lovell said, “I made assumptions and assumed you were lying to cover it up.”

“Until you showed up, I thought it was harmless fun,” Cody said, “I didn’t think it through.”

“One step closer,” Alyce said as she turned the belt buckle between the fingers on her two hands.

* * *

Black and sleek, the Portland Police helicopter flew along the trees, the hills, the rocky ground, and rivers below.

“I love Lovell as much as you both do,” Malcolm said, “It’s too much for him, he’s too unstable to have riding along, I can’t risk him manhandling the controls and adding us to the body count.”

“Can’t say I’m calm either,” Spencer said, “The possibility—I’ve watched them grow up, can’t say it’ll be easy for me either.”

“I tolerate a lot, but not that,” Malcolm said, “We simply didn’t have the fuel to stick around. Today, with the State Police involved, I can cut the engines.”

“You couldn’t do that yesterday?” Spencer asked.

“Even though the auxiliary power unit is light sipper,” Malcolm said, “If it stalls, there’s no way to restart the engines. And with the wildlife down there, we needed a fast exit available.”

“How are you holding out?” Spencer asked of Donald, in the back.

“Splendid,” Donald said, sitting in the back seat, hands shaking on a pill bottle.

“Does that stuff work?” Spencer asked.

“Not as well as they claimed,” Donald said, “I don’t care for the side effects, but I’m doing it for the boys.”

“Glad you came along,” Malcolm said, “We need a clear head.”

“That’s an hour after we land,” Donald said, “Treat it as a crime scene.”

“You’re expecting something?” Spencer asked.

“A hunch,” Donald said, “Best to stick to the rules of evidence and treat it as a crime scene until it’s clearly not.”

“We’re almost there,” Malcolm said as the meadow approached.

“I packed a spare box of gloves,” Donald said, “Got a barf bag?”

“Can you hold it?” Spencer asked.

Rear wheels touched first, the wind from the propeller blew waves through the blades of grass. Donald jumped out fast, walked as he held his stomach.

“I’ll be in here until the other one shows up,” Malcolm said.

Spencer got out, stepped over Donald’s mess, as the propeller blades slowed down; the engine whined at a slow rate of spin.

“Show me exactly where you found it,” Donald said.

Spencer walked to the tree.

“About a foot—here, I think,” Spencer said, pointed, “As best as I can get it.”

“Should’ve marked it,” Donald said as he put a red survey flag into the ground, the permanent ink on the flag indicated the belt buckle.

“Malcolm didn’t even want me to step out,” Spencer said, “Alyce needed it.”

“Helicopters aren’t meant to fly,” Donald said, “Alright.”

Donald took out a wand of metal, at the end, the circular plate of a metal detector. He extended it.

“You’re not expecting—” Spencer started.

“A good detective expects everything yet nothing,” Donald said, the sun glimmered off the badge on his black uniform.

“Something else—” Spencer said, several steps ahead.

“Flag—” Donald said, handing one over.

Spencer lifted up the black leather belt, the clasps for the buckle showed black electrical tape.

“That explains how he lost the buckle,” Donald remarked.

A series of beeps came from the wand, and Donald paused to wave the detector about. He reached down, used tongs to upll a slug of metal out of the ground.

“Is that a .45?” Spencer asked.

“Looks like it,” Donald said as he put it into a baggie. A flag went in.

A new set of blades came onto the range, as a green Alaska State Police helicopters approached, and landed not too far from the black Portland Police helicopter.

“Wonder if Captain Sefton knew how many hours we planned to put on that chopper?” Donald said.

“I’m not answering unless she asks,” Spencer replied.

“Good idea,” Donald said.

Both blades of the helicopters came to a halt, the higher pitch whine came as both auxiliary power units kept running. Malcolm stepped out along with three officers in the blue of the Alaska State Police.

* * *

“According to Grant, you are all experts in adventure,” Maev said as she sat on the dirt by the boulder, “Yet, your preparation skills are…lacking.”

“I wonder how come?” Risley quipped at Grant on the boulder behind Maev.

Ifor stood in front of the other four, loitered.

“For a day, easy,” Ifor said to Maev, “For a week and a hundred miles, not a problem. For ten weeks while fooling our folks, alright, it becomes more of a challenge. However, we’re—is it the … um…”

“Twenty seventh,” Dorcia said.

“About halfway through,” Ifor said, “We’re alive—”

“And healthy,” Dorcia said, her eyes roamed Ifor. From his face, over his bare chest near his armpits, the pubic hair above his soft penis, down his legs over his knees to the feet beneath him.

“To us,” Ifor said, “Wild Trekkers was about having fun. I knew Risley before, but we were classmates. Grant, here, he transferred to Billy Graham because of meeting us. So yes, I’ve made friends, some I’m close to right now.”

“Hopefully,” Maev said, “You’re back to sharing your sleeping bag after we leave.”

“Not until next week,” Dorcia said.

“I mean, I’m willing to show—” Ifor said, “Wanna watch me take a leak?”

“We get the point,” Grant said.

“Good,” Ifor said as he turned to his left.

Ifor held his stiff erection with his left fingers, forced the first bit, before his golden stream strengthened.

“Okay, okay,” Ifor said as he kept peeing, “Maybe closer than Wild Trekkers encourages. To adults, it’s supposed to foster citizenship, morality, and religion—been dubious to that even as I got the Golden Claw.”

“You lied too?” Grant asked.

“How can you lie if you’re not certain of the truth yourself?” Ifor kept standing, aware they watched as his fingers toyed with the foreskin bunched up above his pink glans, “Do I know where I stand on God? Not really, though I’m definitely leaning against it, that it’s a fictional fantasy, but I’ll still go to church because Dad insists on it!”

“Those are definitely not bald,” Dorcia said as she reached over, felt Ifor’s scrotum, “Not much, but not bald.”

“Oh—BaldBlue!” Maev said.

“Aren’t as hairy as mine,” Risley said.

“He’s been paying attention,” Ifor stated.

Risley blushed.

“Mine are even more so,” Grant boasted.

“They’ll count them,” Ifor suggested as he sat down against the boulder.

“Yeah!” Grant said before he asked Dorcia, “Wanna?”

“Try to catch a trout with one,” Maev said.

“Understood,” Dorcia said as she stood.

Risley and Grant walked off with her while Maev slid over to Ifor.

“Thanks,” Ifor said, “They get distracted.”

“We’re naked and they’re—guys,” Maev said, “What’d you expect?”

“Guess that’s right,” Ifor said, “You—you seem to understand, but I don’t, not myself. Sure, I see this—” he pointed at his hard cock between his propped up legs, “—but it’s what’s between—” his fingers pointed to his head from both sides “—that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“You’re failing to give yourself credit,” Maev said, “We know you’re bisexual—” her hand curled around his stiff cock “—right?”

“Yeah,” Ifor replied.

“Some control over your—thing,” Maev said, “I know you’re in the Wild Trekkers and you’re uncertain to your faith.”

“About sums it up,” Ifor grumbled as he put his head to his arms on his knees, watched her fingers pump for a moment on his stiff erection.

“You’re decisive if you feel something wrong is happening,” Maev said, “I like you, Dorcia likes you, Grant likes you, and even Risley likes you. I think I’m getting to know you.”

Ifor stared at the pebble nearby.

“With every word you say, the more convinced I am that somebody wanted you to find yourself…at camp,” Maev said, “However, you are finding yourself out here, bit by bit.”

“I suppose,” Ifor said, “And I’ve got friends to help. Like Grant, willing to value friendship. Or you to help put things in perspective.”

Her hand rubbed the edge of his foreskin, her finger worked beneath his his slit.

“And I know you better,” Maev said.

Ifor felt the spasm, the surge, and his dick squirted, his off white sailed onto the ground.

“It’ll suck when I have to saddle it back into a pair of underwear,” Ifor said, “That’s weeks away, but I’m already dreading it.”

“You think naked is better?” Maev asked.

“Underwear’s designed to make a boner uncomfortable,” Ifor said, “It forces things against you—sit wrong and they squish. It’s not fun, but it’s required by law.”

“I thought bras were torture devices,” Maev said, “Obviously not for boys.”

“I know my friends better,” Ifor said, “Would you have jerked me off if I were dressed?”

Maev shook her head.

“And thank you,” Ifor said, “I’d rather focus on you, or Ifor, or Grant, or Dorcia, getting it when you need it, and trust you to provide it when I need it. Pursuing for my own pleasure, that’s selfish.”

“Don’t deny yourself,” Maev said.

“Of course, there’s another option,” Ifor said, “Don’t go home—find or build a cabin, we could live off the land.”

“Think your parents might miss you?” Maev asked.

“Nah,” Ifor said, “It’s Nessa this or Nessa that. If anything, the worst is a spot at the academy goes unused—no loss there. Nope, they don’t give a damn about me. If anything, Dad’s most likely at home by now.”

* * *

Three black and three blue uniforms methodically paced the large meadow, placed red survey flags. They had nearly finished their second pass of it, six going side by side, when they heard the buzz from above.

“What the…?” Donald asked as a Cessna 185 made a descent toward them.

“Don’t know,” Spencer said.

The Cessna 185 landed on the grass, came to a halt near the helicopters. Glint from the hat, Captain Shrader stepped out, adjusted his brown uniform, and made a quick pace toward Spencer.

“What do we have?” Captain Shrader asked.

“Our boys were here—various artifacts confirm that,” Spencer said, “As you can see, we’re combing for all clues before we come to a proper determination.”

“Why would camp counselors drop them here?” Captain Shrader said, “That does not make sense—easy to land according to my pilot, but we’re rather far from Beacon of the Light.”

“We don’t have the answer to that at this time,” Spencer said, “However, we’ve recovered some of their lost possessions, but no evidence of the boys themselves. It’s been a month, so any boot prints—”

“Washed away,” Captain Shrader said, “Not a lot of rain, but some.”

“Either outcome is still possible,” said Donald, “If alive, they were lightly loaded, so twenty five miles a day on foot for a month is easily doable for boys in their prime, if not more.”

“Those hundreds of miles started here,” Spencer stated.

“I wish you luck,” Captain Shrader said, “Don’t ignore the other possibility. A month and three bodies could be anywhere in hundreds of miles.”

“I chose the optimist perspective when I came up here,” Spencer said.

“Of course,” Captain Shrader said, “Be prepared. How much have you searched?”

“Most of the field,” Donald said, “We need one more pass to be sure, we’ll search into the woods tomorrow.”

“I’ll help,” Captain Shrader said, “Lead the way.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said.

Captain Shrader joined in the methodical search until the evening turned into dusk. Malcolm flew Spencer and Donald to Anchorage, half the back had nicely inventoried bags.

“Lovell should be here,” Spencer said as he shut the door to Donald’s hotel room, the suitcase open and well organized.

“No,” Donald said, “I trust him with my life but I’d rather he not hear this.”

“So, you didn’t tell this Captain Shrader everything?” Malcolm asked.

“A good poker player knows it’s best to hold some cards tight,” Donald said, “A month leaves us without footprints. Based on the debris and the lead, those boys were likely fired upon.”

“Firearms?” Spencer said, “Of course—the shells!”

“Most of the day,” Donald said, “Nor do I believe they were the first to encounter this—some were really buried, as in, this has happened before.”

“You’re certain—of course you are,” Spencer said, “Doesn’t answer the most likely question.”

“Apart from today, the rest is conjecture,” Donald said, “If they got shot at and were hit, then they’re already dead.”

“We have to tell Alexis our findings,” Spencer said, “For good or evil. Lovell won’t appreciate them.”

“Neither do I,” Donald said, “Having the boys tag along, it’s become the high point of the month. That doesn’t change the facts that we do have.”

“Why would anybody shoot at sixteen year old boys?” Malcolm asked, “After flying them out there?”

“You know the answer,” Spencer said, “Janitors.”

“No charges on their phones or cards, so the boys paid in cash,” Donald said, “They kept it secret which has the hallmarks of somebody getting referred to…you know how they are, keep things interesting, and it’s not like Darwin publishes its list of vendors.”

“And they accidentally fell into a provider,” Malcolm said, “This does not bode well.”

“Maybe its for the better,” Donald said, “I checked the Lighthouse—they fronted the money for the camp scholarship.”

“Knock me over the head so I don’t remember,” Spencer said, “Lovell’s going to hate this.”

“Lighthouse doesn’t spend money unless they have to,” Malcolm said, “So even if we found them alive—we’d be going through this again in a couple of years when they’re actually eighteen.”

“Still, lets find them,” Spencer said, “Maybe the academy will help Ifor, or the right date will set them straight, keep him away from Darwin.”

“So Captain Shrader’s story stands,” Donald said, “Despite evidence to the contrary, misbehaving counselors from the camp abducted them. I hate this.”

“Got a roll away?” Spencer said, “I’d spill if I went back.”

* * *

Tuesday, July 28th

The next morning, Malcolm flew the Portland Police helicopter back to the meadow, where Captain Shrader already was. Next to the Captain was a small table with a coffee pot on a camp stove, a tray of doughnuts, and small stack of coffee cups.

“How thoughtful,” Spencer said as he poured himself a cup of the hot black liquid.

“Use the trash bag when you’re done,” Captain Shrader said, “Small gesture from my deputies and their wives.”

“I’ll get some later,” Donald said.

“Flying doesn’t sit well with him,” Spencer said.

“Understood,” Captain Shrader said, “Now, I don’t know how long Portland can bear to part with fine officers. You’ll need to take shortcuts unless you’re prepared to walk in circles for hundreds of miles.”

“An understatement,” Malcolm said as the Alaska State Police helicopter came around the trees.

“Fortunately, I’ve had to do big searches before and know you can’t find it all,” Captain Shrader said. “First, to keep you from getting lost yourselves, I have these.” He held out three small round plastic pucks. “Homing beacons to lead you back here. Three so we can have three teams of two each—go out and back. I know it’s not as methodical as you’d like, but we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and hopefully you’ll stumble across what you’re looking for, give you a lead.”

Three officers in blue came from the Alaska State Police helicopter.

“I’ll stay here to coordinate,” Captain Shrader said, “Half hour out and come back to take a new direction. Now, given you’re less experienced out here, take an Alaskan, because—no offense, you need an objective set of eyes.”

“None taken,” Donald said.

“If you’re overdue by a half hour,” Captain Shrader said, “We’re sending a helicopter to find you—pilots, don’t team up.”

“Agreed,” Malcolm said.

“I suggest one team follow these flags,” Captain Shrader said as he pointed to a long trail of flags running outward from the small tree to the south. “The other two, say—that away!” Captain Shrader pointed in a couple of other directions to the south.

Spencer kept quiet as he walked with one in blue, headed south.

…

A short while after noon, the officers returned to the meadow, to the table with a tray of sandwiches, as clouds drifted above.

“Again, thoughtful,” Spencer said, “Thank you.”

“I’m grateful,” Captain Shrader said, “The lot of you more than double the size of my police department for the cost of a platter of sandwiches.”

Some snickers came from the group.

“They’re also on speed enforcement to pay for the food,” Captain Shrader said.

Spencer grabbed a foot long sub with roast beef, bit in. Donald took a half foot.

“I’m on a diet,” Donald said.

“A responsible one,” Captain Shrader said, “No offense intended, I could use one myself.”

With bottled sodas and chips in their pockets, they began to mosey around the meadow. Spencer and Malcolm drifted toward the northeast side of the meadow.

“Gotta admit this doesn’t look good,” Malcolm said.

“Lovell’s not here, but Donald would tell him that without conclusive evidence—nothing’s known,” Spencer said, “They had a rough start, that’s for certain.”

Malcolm and Spencer went through the brush, stopped inside the grove of trees.

“Shouldn’t get ourselves lost,” Malcolm said.

“Yeah,” Spencer said as he instinctively glanced around, only to stop, his eyes focused to see a shred of blue.

“It’s nice in here,” Malcolm said.

“What’s this?” Spencer asked as he stepped closer, fibers ripped apart on a piece of blue denim.

“It’s everywhere,” Malcolm said.

Spencer turned around as he surveyed the ground, full of colored spots among the short undergrowth. Spencer drew his whistle, put it to his lips, and blew. Five officers, including the others, came running over.

“What’s the emergency?” Captain Shrader asked.

“Look,” Spencer said.

“Alright,” Donald said between pants, “We’ve got our search cut out for us. Grid.”

“I’ll get more bags,” Malcolm said.

“Do that,” Donald said as he brought out a camera, focused it, and took pictures. They moved progressively between the bits of cloth, staking a red flag. Malcolm came back with a couple rolls of bags.

“Yo!” yelled one of the Alaska State Police officers.

Donald and Spencer walked fast, but carefully among the red flags. They came to what the officer had seen. Three skulls with bits of maggot infested meat dangling from them, human skulls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, daily postings because I got way, way, ahead. Once the excess is depleted, it’ll return to a slower pace.


	23. Skulls

Donald climbed into the Portland Police Helicopter’s left front seat, he pushed the buttons, when the video display lit up. Captain Sefton, with her brown hair tied up into behind her head, was on the other side.

“Alexis,” Donald said, “We just found at least three sets of remains, difficult to be certain that it’s only three due to the separation and scattering—there is wildlife that would do such a thing. Decay is consistent with a month and no other people have been reported missing in this general vicinity. Given the mess, I have to defer proper identification to the coroner. However, based on my personal judgment, remains and scattered effects are consistent with our missing boys.”

It took the Captain a moment.

“I appreciate the report,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “Have you told Sgt. Ulverston?”

“No, not yet,” Donald said, “Not until we have some certainty.”

“How is he holding up?” she asked.

“Having watched them grow up—even I’m having some difficulty, but I’m managing,” Donald said, “Him, it was becoming too much so we had to sideline him—understandable, of course.”

“Thank you,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “Keep me apprised.”

“Roger,” Donald said.

Video cut out, and Donald climbed out of the helicopter.

“Not easy?” Malcolm asked.

Donald peered up to the cloudy sky above, before he bowed his head.

“Oh Lord grant me the strength to deal with this,” Donald said, “And may you accept Ifor, Grant, and Risley into your heavenly arms.”

“Amen,” Malcolm said.

Donald and Malcolm left the helicopter, returned to the gap between the trees, so see the others already gathering the bits of meat and bone into red biohazard bags.

“What the—STOP!” Donald shouted.

“Excuse me?” asked Captain Shrader.

“This is a homicide crime scene,” Donald said, “We have to wait for the coroner.”

“Do you understand Alaska, at all?” Captain Shrader asked, “Everybody, continue.”

Captain Shrader came over to Donald while the Alaska officers returned to their task at hand.

“You’re used to Portland where they’ve got the manpower and equipment to spare to send up here to search,” Captain Shrader said, “You called the coroners and they promised a day, right? With them, you’re lucky if they show up in a week—I’ve seen it go to a month if they don’t forget about you. Wild animals have already scattered these remains and they’re about to pick over the bones. In a month, you won’t find them.”

“The chain of evidence—” Donald started.

“A chain matters not if there isn’t evidence to be collected,” Captain Shrader said, “Relax, this isn’t my first time. Everybody is taking pictures and marking exactly where they found the pieces. Between the three aircraft here, we can get this to the coroner’s office tonight—though you’ll owe me a case of beer to speed up their findings.”

Donald stood there, his mouth open at the breach of protocol.

“You want these boys back as quickly as possible,” Captain Shrader said, “I’m delivering on my promise to do exactly that.”

Captain Shrader returned to where he was a few minutes earlier, pulled out another red plastic biohazard bag.

“Gotta admit he’s right,” Malcolm said.

“You…can’t…just…do…that,” Donald said, “It’s worse than rookies!”

“Then teach them,” Malcolm said, “We’re here now and we can’t keep running the chopper all over this state. I’m in deep enough with Alexis when I flew it up here.”

“Alright,” Donald said, “EVERYBODY, over HERE!”

Captain Shrader came first.

“As this task has to be done now, you’re learning how to do it properly,” Donald said, “Because as these kids are dead, we need to preserve the best chance at understanding their story—we owe their families that much. You have all handled crime scenes, however, a homicide scene requires more attention to detail.”

Donald instructed for fifteen minutes, a bit of demonstration, before they all returned to the search, a bit more methodical. A half hour later.

“Over here!” Spencer said.

Donald went over, to the shrub, beneath which was three ribcages with liquefied goo. Donald doubled over as he vomited.

“Not strong?” asked Captain Shrader.

“You didn’t grow up with them,” Spencer said, “I need a moment.”

Spencer walked over to a tree. Donald didn’t need to hear it, he knew the grief they shared, over the boys gone before their time.

* * *

Ifor felt the warmth, the presence, as he laid there, front side down on top of the four others in the girl’s tent. Rain pounded the fabric that kept the water away from them. Those other four were side by side, on the girls’ sleeping bags, while the boys’ was on Ifor’s backside, mostly covered them all. Ifor’s legs were across Maev’s, while his erection felt Grant’s circumcised flesh standing next to it. Ifor’s chest kept Dorcia tucked in, while his head rested to the side on Risley’s lower abdomen. Ifor’s right eye was mostly buried in Risley’s dark brown pubic hair, while his left traced out the veins on the partially stiff dick.

“Six stars out of five,” Ifor said, “I’d totally do this again.”

Ifor felt the pair of hands pat his buttocks.

“Summer only, of course,” Ifor said.

“Because we’re naked,” Maev remarked.

“Not like this was common,” Risley said.

“We’d sneak in sleepovers at bible study,” Grant said, “At most, we’d get down to our underwear—though I heard the last one—”

“That was spontaneous,” Ifor said, “Accident, of course.”

Some snickers.

Ifor felt hands on his feet, Dorcia’s breasts against his right arm. Even the fingers holding his balls were welcome to him.

“In Wild Trekkers,” Risley said, “Anything less than two layers is discouraged, even in bed, though I’d skip the undershirt. Anyways, on our first camping trip—dunno where Cody found it—we had a stuffed bear head. Ifor here, would sleep in his underwear, and I still swear it had a brown stain on it when he bolted from his tent.”

“Got scolded for not wearing pajamas,” Ifor said, “They were laughing at my expense.”

“And we still are,” Grant remarked.

Ifor felt the fingers that held his erection with Grant’s. Seemed fair to Ifor as his own hands felt Dorcia.

“Or at Risley’s idea to tag the Fremont bridge in Portland,” Ifor said, “It was—magnificent. It’s not a small bridge, it’s a landmark in its own right.”

“It wasn’t his idea to perform that skit in front of his church,” Grant said.

“Skit?” Dorcia asked.

“It’s nothing,” Ifor remarked, his hand massaged into the flaps of her labia.

“How did you get that Monty Python sketch?” Grant asked.

“J,” Risley said.

“Obviously illegal,” Grant said, “Life of Brian, a comedy set around the same time as Jesus—technically blasphemy and heresy. We read a bit of the play’s script at several of our bible study sessions. Word leaked, and we were obligated to perform this for several different congregations. Doubt any of our audience really understood it—still fun that we got away with it.”

“That … sounds … interesting …“ Dorcia said.

“Do you have one of my vibrators?” Maev asked.

“No … I … don’t,” Dorcia replied.

“I don’t get it,” Grant said.

“You’re really thick if you’re laying next to a girl, unable to tell she’s having an orgasm,” Maev said, “Ifor—?”

“His … fingers …“ Dorcia started.

“Oh,” Maev said.

“He’s turned on,” Grant said. Ifor felt the fingers confirming his erection.

“You’d think the blood vessels would be symmetrical or run down the middle,” Ifor said, his left eye still studying the top side of Risley’s hard erection, “Without a tablet—”

“Better off without one,” Grant said, “His dick’s far more entertaining.”

“Still turning him on?” Risley asked.

Ifor felt the fingers checking his dick, again.

“Yep,” Grant said, “Hard as a rock.”

“Forecast for Risley’s boner,” Ifor said, “Strong possibility of an seismic eruption, I’ll keep an eye on it—for safety.”

“Yeah, sure,” Risley snapped.

“Do I or don’t I alter that forecast?” Dorcia asked.

Snickers.

“Did I understand right, theater camp?” Grant asked, changing the topic, “Plays and all that?”

“Don’t think Dad approves of me writing plays, because that’s not what a proper housewife does,” Dorcia said, “Unlike Mom in prison.”

“You write?” Grant asked.

“Yeah,” Dorcia said, “I don’t let Dad see them, but I suspect he’s read one or two.”

“I’ll read them,” Ifor said, “Maybe put one on.”

“Dunno about that,” Dorcia said, “They get awfully personal.”

Ifor pushed his left fingers a bit, slipped them between her folds into her, while his right cupped her right breast.

“This isn’t personal?” Ifor asked.

“Our minds are different,” Dorcia said, “It exposed the soul.”

Ifor massaged into her skin.

“Alright!” Dorcia said, “I’ll consider it.”

Rain pounded harder onto the tent, noise that drowned out the plane in the distance that was about to fly over them.

“Wish it’d stop,”Maev said.

“It’s comfortable,” Grant said.

“And warm,” Dorcia said.

“I like it here,” Ifor said, “Can we stay?”

Ifor felt the surge of sticky warmth against his testicles, even Grant’s ejaculation didn’t dampen Ifor’s opinion. Instead, Ifor’s hard cock replied in kind, and he felt the spasms, the quenching, the release.

“Gotchya,” Maev said.

“Yep,” Ifor said, “I…”

Ifor drifted into a nap, comfortable with his friends.

* * *

Light was waning fast as the police officers loaded up both helicopters and the fixed wing Cessna.

“I meant to ask,” Donald said to the other helping Captain Shrader, “Who are you?”

“Irwin Milton,” the man said.

“He’s from Landcastle,” Captain Shrader said, “Irwin here helps out a lot when I need to fly somewhere. I appreciate his dedication to assisting law enforcement.”

“Nice to meet you,” Donald said, “Wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Understood,” Irwin said.

They continued loading up the aircraft with the bags, both the biohazards and the myriad of others; flood lights from the Portland Police Helicopter lit the area.

“Land at the airstrip,” Captain Shrader said, “The coroner will meet us there.”

* * *

Wednesday, July 29th

Silence on their lips, only the twin turbo engines lent any noise on the somber flight back to Landcastle under the moonlit sky. Malcolm landed the Portland Police Helicopter next to the one for the Alaska State Police. The Cessna 185 taxied over to them as the medical examiner van approached. Donald climbed out of the helicopter and his stomach wrenched; he vomited onto the grass beneath him. Spencer gave Donald a pat on the back, offered a hand, and Donald accepted it.

“These are them?” asked the man with the medical examiner jacket.

“It—you’ll understand,” said Captain Shrader, “Trust you to sort it out.”

Three body bags on three stretchers. All of them unloaded the remains, the evidence, into the the three body bags. Two of the assistants in white, and the medical examiner, began to move the stretchers.

“Attention!” Spencer snapped as he came to attention. He raised his right hand to his temple in salute.

Malcolm and Donald were next to salute. The Alaska State Police officers and Captain Shrader saluted as the bags were transferred into the vans. Slowly, the vans left.

“As you were,” Captain Shrader said.

“Camp,” Spencer said to Malcolm.

“At this hour—?” Captain Shrader started.

“Don’t tell them about the meat puzzle,” Donald said, “Anything but that.”

“I meant yes, so I will leave that lousy detail to you,” Captain Shrader said, “As to me, it’s been a long day, and…sorry, but time’s no longer of the utmost importance, so I will rest.”

“Can you take him to his hotel?” Malcolm asked while he pointed at Donald, “Doubt he can take another spin.”

“Can you stand my sofa?” Captain Shrader said, “That’d be better, sort it out in the morning.”

“That’ll work,” Donald said.

Spencer grabbed the tablet as he entered the Portland Police helicopter, tapped into it.

“I’ll need my rest too,” Malcolm said.

“They need to know, now,” Spencer said, “We promised Lovell, he deserves to know. Buzz Cody’s cabin if you can, or spotlight it, in case he didn’t get the message.”

They went up into the air. Spencer poked Malcolm several times as they made the short hop over to the parade grounds at Beacon of the Light camp.

“I’ll get Alyce,” Malcolm said.

Spencer knew from the undertone his task. He walked fast to the guest cabin on the left, went in. Spencer knelt by Lovell’s footlocker, spun the dial fast, opened it, and removed Lovell’s gun from the belt inside it. Spencer secured the gun to his own belt before he shook Lovell awake.

“Lovell,” Spencer said, “I need to talk to all of you, together.”

“What is it?” Lovell groggily asked.

“Sorry, it can’t wait,” Spencer said, “And I’d rather do it once.”

Lovell stood up, his T–shirt and sweatpants. Lovell stumbled as Spencer guided him to the main office, into the meeting room, to the easy chair. Barefooted, Lovell sat down.

“Spencer?” Alyce asked as she entered, a full length nightgown, sat on the other easy chair.

Patter of footsteps came from outside.

“In a moment,” Spencer said.

Marcia entered wearing a red T–shirt, a bit oversize, one of Cody’s red T–shirts, with nothing else. She yawned as she sat on a wooden chair as her entire crotch showed from beneath the hem of that red T–shirt, from her clitoris all the way down to the anus. Spencer realized she was too tired on short notice, better to ignore the misdemeanor given what he had to say.

“What?” Cody asked as he entered, also pressed for speed as he had on a single pair of underwear, a cross between a brief and jockey, and nothing else, which made his bulge prominent as he took another wooden seat.

“It’s past midnight,” Alyce said, “What’d you expect?”

“You said—” Lovell started.

“We searched around where we found the belt buckle,” Spencer said, “A bit into the woods, three sets of remains were found—”

“No!” Marcia barked.

“—and removed to the medical examiner’s office,” Spencer continued, “Due to deterioration, no positive identification could be made. Given their age and other factors, it’s most likely our boys.”

A tear flowed down Lovell’s cheek. Alyce cried into her handkerchief. Cody started at the cold fireplace, however, Marcia came over and sat in his lap, she held onto him.

“You’re certain?” Lovell asked.

“Not one hundred percent, highly likely,” Spencer said, “I’m telling you because I…promised…to…keep…you…”

Spencer slumped, Malcolm caught him and lowered Spencer to the floor.

“Been a long and tough day,” Malcolm said, “I shouldn’t have flown the hop here, but you deserved, you all deserved to hear this without delay.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said, “Wish it had gone better.”

“We all do,” Malcolm said as he gripped Lovell’s right shoulder, “We all do, friend.”

“I wish…” Alyce stammered, “I wish…”

Malcolm pulled Alyce up, gave a quick hug.

“I need to sleep,” Malcolm said.

“Borrow his bunk,” Lovell said, “Leave him be.”

Malcolm escorted Alyce out of the meeting room.

…

“Cody?” Marcia asked.

Cody stood up, which forced Marcia to also stand.

“I’m sorry,” Cody said, “Didn’t think it’d come to this.”

“Some wrongs cannot be remedied, ever,” Lovell said as he focused on the young man, the muscles that twitched on the bare chest, and the brown eyes that returned the gaze. “I know you didn’t mean this outcome, that you thought you were being their friend, but it can’t ever be fixed. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to live with this to the end of your days.”

Lovell left the meeting room.

“Cody!” Marcia said.

Cody walked fast out of the room, heard Marcia running to catch him, as he walked past the black helicopter as he crossed the moonlit parade grounds, past the flag pole, and marched halfway down the benches of the amphitheater. He felt her fingers snag his underwear, dropped them faster than he sat, and his bare buttocks planted themselves onto the wooden plank. His pubic hair and his stiffening dick exposed.

“I do forgive you,” Marcia said as she pulled his underwear over his knees, threw them across the benches.

“How can you?” Cody said, “I could’ve done more to talk them out of it—or ratted them out. They’d be here if I had done that!”

“I do know one thing about you,” Marcia said, “You keep dirty secrets, well, secret.” She teased his erection and sat between his legs to let it rest between her buttocks.

“Gah!” Cody said as he backed out.

Cody stood, his hard statue fully deployed as it jutted out and his bare feet on the bark dust.

“My friend—your brother is dead, and you’re suggesting a celebratory fuck?” Cody asked.

Marcia advanced.

“Did you know Risley, at all?” Marcia said, “I think he’s laughing right now, enjoying watching us. So, think of it as a memorial fuck.”

“That’s awkward,” Cody said. His eyes on her, moonlit figure in his T–shirt, and he knew his erection was not going away.

Marcia’s right index finger slid along the top of his stiff penis from the tip to the base, moved to the ridge beneath, and slid out along the urethrae back to his tip. She repeated this as she spoke.

“Like I understand it all,” she said as her left finger wiped away the tears from underneath her eyes, “Feels right and I want to.”

“Oh…sorry,” Cody said, “Yeah, alright.”

Cody’s hands went under the shirt and held underneath her armpits as he lowered her onto the bench. He pulled the shirt up, tiny shadows came from her moonlit erect nipples on her breasts, and off of her. She used the shirt as a handkerchief, cried into it. Cody lifted her legs and she laid with her back on the bench. Cody straddled, brought his hard dick level with her folds. His chest pushed on her thighs, his hands returned to her chest. Cody plied his digits into her breasts while his stiff cock slipped into her She mopped away her tears with the shirt.

“Alright?” Cody said, “Sorry…wrong word.”

“Go slow, make it last,” Marcia said.

Cody moved slow, felt the suction against him, however, his dick released and ejaculated minutes later. His penis forced the withdrawal as it softened.

“More,” Marcia said.

“I’m—” Cody started.

“Or fingers?” Marcia said, “How about licking? That’d be close. You were…”

Cody let his guilt push on him, and he moved to bring his head between her legs. His tongue went on a fold, he tasted the salty sticky mess.

“Ew,” Cody muttered.

“Good to clean your mess up,” Marcia said.

Cody realized what she meant, his mess, more than one was going on, and he was already being damned into hell. He’d have to lick her ass if he wanted any chance at redemption. He licked as she cried into the shirt, he licked as she sighed, he licked as the golden shower came from her, took his licks, his punishment, for the sins he had committed. He licked around the folds, over the clitoris, and back down to her anus, wondered how many it’d take to earn forgiveness. Cody ignored his own urges, let himself piss onto her, which he also licked off. Salty, tangy, disgusting, Cody knew he deserved this as he licked on her, the breaths shallow as she dozed.

…

Sounds of footsteps made Cody and Marcia aware of the hours that had passed. Morning light already lit them up, campers and other people started to come out on the trails.

“Um…we’re—” Cody started.

“Which way?” Marcia asked.

“Here,” Cody said.

Cody pulled on Marcia, abandoned the shirt and underwear, and moved fast down the benches to the stage. Cody pulled right, they jumped onto the trail with the swimming docks. Cody turned around as they passed the first tree of the shore, where people were already gathering on the parade grounds.

“They’re interested in the helicopter,” Marcia said.

“Good,” Cody said, glancing at the black Portland Police helicopter, “We needed the distraction.”

Cody turned and ran along the trail that circumnavigated the lake, aware his soft dick swayed in the open and exposed for everybody to see. Marcia followed him.

“Cross our fingers that everybody’s hungry,” Cody said.

“I am too,” Marcia said, “I was wearing—”

“Your pussy showed!” Cody said.

“You never said—” Marcia started.

“Didn’t seem important—now it does,” Cody replied.

They moved fast, though hid as best as they could at various noises, for a few more minutes, before they slowed down on the trail. Docks, the flag, were now on the other side of the lake from them, over the reeds that gave them cover as they walked, this time she was in front of him.

“So,” Cody asked, “How do you feel?”

“Thank you for—what you did,” Marcia said, “It gave something else to focus on, I mean, he’s gone, and I’m not going to seem him again, am I?”

“Neither am I,” Cody replied, “Though, we’re going to stop by the showers first.” He felt more of the aftertaste lingering in his mouth.

“You helped me think,” Marcia said, “You’re such a nice boyfriend—”

“What?!” Cody spat.

“We’re naked, lovers, and having sex,” Marcia said, “What else do you call it?”

“I thought I…” Cody started until he realized his point was moot. They were naked, he did care for her, and they’ve been doing it since she arrived; something he hadn’t put into his plans at the start of summer.

“Risley’s moved on, and I need to come to terms with that,” Marcia said, “He would’ve wanted to see me off—and to an otherwise good friend, I doubt he’d be disappointed. I mean, you certainly held his plan secret until proven dangerous. And, you’re trying to please—we have some need for improvement there; maybe in time for the honeymoon—”

“You’re thirteen!” Cody snapped at the girl already planning out his life.

Marcia turned around, her hands held her breasts and shook them. Cody’s flesh moved, the penis began to stiffen.

“Thought so,” Marcia said, “In two months, I’m fourteen and you can propose—suppose you don’t have too much saved up, so a small ring will have to do. And don’t tell me you’re not interested!” She touched the tip of his hard erection. “You’re happy with this, so where’s the reason to object?” She turned around, and they walked.

Cody was uncertain where to begin, as they had started when she forced him to stay naked and he had weighed her comfort against his own actions. Now, Marcia was talking nuptials until death do they part.

“Now, I do know how you feel about sex before marriage,” Marcia said, “So, consider us married in the eyes of the Lord, affirm it with the mortals in the fall.”

Cody realized the gravity of the situation as he came to understand her to be correct. He did enjoy being naked with her and the sex.

“You’re moving a bit too fast,” Cody said, “While I’d like to say we should stop and smell the roses—that can wait until after we get dressed.”

“You’re right,” Marcia said, “I mean, I presume Mom’s going to wanna spend, I mean, I’m her last child. However, I think she’s taking leave without pay, so I’m sure money’s going to be a bit of an issue for the ceremony. I know! I’ve heard about this fad, called Adam and Eve—don’t know all the details, other than people save money on wedding dresses.”

Cody thought it premature to be discussing wedding dresses.

“And after the ceremony, we’ll have to ask the Vicar how to get a child,” Marcia said, “Name the first boy, Risley—to honor my brother.”

Cody wasn’t ready to think about kids as they kept walking.

Three quarters of the way around, they came across the service road, got onto it as the first of the morning chimes rang out. Cody knew their time short, moved a bit faster, his firm erection swung with his gait, when footprints approached. A fast jump and they rushed into the bushes, squatted. Marcia reached, held onto Cody’s hard dick, and he slipped to fall backward. Cody tried to stifle his laugh while Marcia’s right hand vigorously rubbed his cock. Cody couldn’t stop himself, the laughter as her left fingers tickled his balls, and figured that maybe the Lord needed to see this.

“Cody—is that you?” asked the voice.

Cody, uncertain what Marcia was up to, couldn’t move fast enough. A head came over the brush.

“Aw ha!” Hugo said as Cody felt the spasm and release.

“Hi,” Cody managed as the pumping of his orgasm surged, his off–white seed flew up toward his stomach. A striped trail of white laid from his brown pubic hair up to his belly button.

“What are you—?” Hugo asked.

“Adam and Eve—before getting kicked out of Eden,” Cody said before thinking, “And their bite of the apple. We were reenacting it to understand—”

“Sure,” Hugo said, “Everybody knows you two have the hots—”

“We—” Cody started as he stood, his dick still dribbling.

“It’s alright,” Hugo said, “Walk you back to your cabin—”

“I’d like a shower first,” Marcia said as she shook a bit of semen off her hand.

“We need—” Cody started.

You’re already naked,” Hugo said, “Walk you there. Though I think you’re also the first to risk it in broad daylight. Adam and Eve—classic.”

Cody sighed as they walked.

“Urgent summons in the middle of the night,” Cody said.

“So, that’s why the Portland Police helicopter is parked next to the dining hall?” Hugo asked.

“Yeah,” Cody said, “I rushed, so I had underwear—well, they found the remains of my friends, not here, but out there.”

“And you misplaced your underwear?” Hugo asked.

“Something like that,” Cody said, “Look, it’s not weird.”

They came to the boys’ shower building.

“Better to have the hots for a girl than a guy,” Hugo said, “You’re cool, but you’re not giving people a chance if you isolate yourself from them.”

“Thanks,” Cody said.

“No problem,” Hugo said, “Good luck with her!”

Hugo left and Cody entered the building.

“Is he going to spill?” Marcia asked.

It took a moment before Cody understood. Hugo had the same reason he didn’t spill Grant’s diabolical plans, that tenet of the Wild Trekkers that he had upheld; loyalty.

“No,” Cody said as he stepped next to her.

Cody pulled on the shower handle as she held onto him. Cody wasn’t worried even with her hand holding his balls. He’d done enough that an official report was meaningless, with half the counselors on close observation, the camp director resigned in lieu of firing, and the camp itself more concerned with self–preservation than quibbling over a petty rule with its campers. Only one witness mattered to Cody, the only one that did matter.

“Thank the Lord we found each other,” Cody said to Marcia.

Marcia kissed him.


	24. Soap

“I flew reconnaissance with that new camera,” Irwin said, “Found the tent for those two girls that went hiking two weeks ago, about a three day hike in, over three hundred miles from where I set the boys down.”

“FLIR?”

“It was raining, the girls were obviously huddled together in their tent,” Irwin said, “No other heat signatures that would be them.”

“So, they did, indeed die?”

“It would seem like it,” Irwin said, “Those others—you’re positive no arrowheads were left behind?”

“You helped move them into place! Any leftover flint is part of the debris associated with those minced meat pies.”

Thursday, July 30th

Cody and Marcia sat in the metal chairs on the lawn of the Landcastle Police. Half the parking lot torn up and replaced with fresh concrete footings for the remodeling that was underway. Behind the podium, surveyor tape marked off the rest of the front lawn. In their black police uniforms, Donald Faucher, Spencer Piper, and Malcolm Ivinghoe sat on the same row. Alyce and Lovell sat one row forward.

Captain Shrader stepped up to the microphones.

“Good afternoon,” Captain Shrader said, “I have updates on the search regarding three missing campers from the Beacon of the Light. As you may recall, some former counselors decided to haze some of the campers, against the policies of the camp, and got a bit carried away.

“After an exhaustive search, we believe that we have located the remains of the missing three. These remains were removed to the office of the medical examiner where we await the formal identification. However, the remains are consistent with three adolescent males, and when combined with the personal effects found at the scene, we firmly believe these are them. Officially, this search is now classified as a recovery until the scene of their deaths has been fully investigated, at which point, I expect to be able to close it

“I thank the police of the Portland, Oregon, Police Department who tirelessly pursued this, otherwise, there is a good chance those boys would never have been found. While I wish they had a better outcome, at least we shall be able to return these boys to their families.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Ifor studied the lines and the curves in front of him, as he knelt near the fire. Risley leaned back against the flagpole, legs spread, as Ifor’s fingers touched the scrotum. Ifor glanced at the combed and fluffy brown pubic hair, before he sniffed at the soft penis.

“Still weird,” Risley said, “You getting off on this.”

“Girls leave tomorrow,” Ifor said, “So do we. Only way you’re getting action after that is me, Grant, or yourself.”

“That’s tomorrow,” Risley said, “Should be with them now.”

“Grant’s overseeing their bath in the lake,” Ifor said before he touched his tongue to Risley’s foreskin. “You can enjoy a good blow knowing I don’t mind.”

Ifor licked the glans, the slit, while he teased the testicles. Risley began to stiffen.

“See?” Ifor said, “I can draw it out of you.”

“You’ve been practicing!” Risley said.

“Exactly, see how good I can make it?” Ifor said before he let the shaft enter.

“Still weird,” Risley said.

Ifor’s tongue worked around the glans as it fully immersed itself within. Ifor teased Risley’s testicles, it took a few minutes until the pumping and the surge. Salty and meaty in flavor, Ifor tasted the semen flowing across his tongue, and he swallowed it.

“Better?” Risley asked.

“You?” Ifor asked.

“Okay, so you’re getting better at it!” Risley said as Ifor stood.

Ifor’s hard erection jutted outward as he wrapped his right arm around Risley’s back, gripped the right shoulder, and they walked across the meadow.

“Friend, I love you,” Ifor said, his left fingers poked into Risley’s left shoulder, “I love my friends—anything wrong with that?”

“You definitely love us,” Risley said as he scratched his head.

“Exactly,” Ifor said, “A penny shared is a penny earned back a thousand times. You know that, so do I. I focus on you being satisified, and you’ll make sure I’m not left behind.”

“We’ve got—” Risley started.

“Tomorrow—gone,” Ifor said, “We’ll go back to Portland—do we have to?”

“I’d rather have you sucking on my dick,” Risley said, “You’re doing a good job acting drunk.”

“Thank you,” Ifor said, “Fun like this—right?”

Risley laughed.

“Why stop?” Ifor asked, “Why hide myself from you?”

“You’re definitely not hiding,” Risley said as they both glanced at Ifor’s hard cock, “I’ll take a piss next time.”

“Dare you to do that,” Ifor said.

They came to the lake, where Grant and Dorcia were in a water fight, splashing water back and forth. Maev sat nearby. Ifor and Risley sat on logs facing each other.

“Suppose your idea has merit,” Risley said, “I mean, why go home?”

“We don’t show up?” Ifor said, “You’ve never met my Dad then. He’d tear Alaska apart to find me, and Cody would be in the hot seat.”

“Bad idea,” Risley said, “Okay, sign into the Police Academy and leave.”

“Thought one cop was bad?” Ifor said, “Think it’s a felony too—not sure.”

“Meet Cody at the airport, have him carry some fake death certificates home?” Risley asked.

“After writing the entire summer?” Ifor said, “No, that won’t work, because the camp would immediately call our folks if something bad happens. We have to go home.”

“Runaway after that?” Risley asked, “You’ve got the truck. I’ll be old enough for a drivers license when I return, go in and get tested along with Grant. I mean, none of us want to do what we’ve been told to do in the fall. Go and rescue Dorcia from her cousin.”

“How far is it from Portland to West Virginia?” Ifor asked, “And where is it?”

“West of Virginia, obviously,” Risley said, “East, somewhere, east of Boise, you can be sure of that.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Ifor said.

“Swear on that,” Risley said as he shook Ifor’s hard erection.

Ifor’s grabbed Risley’s soft penis, shook it.

“Count Grant and the girls in on that,” Ifor said.

“Don’t forget Ainsley and Peace,” Risley said.

“Think they’d be up for a harem?” Ifor asked.

“Gotta persuade them first,” Risley replied, “And no to my sister! She stays put! Or yours!”

They laughed.

* * *

That evening, Risley scooped out a helping of the blackberry cobbler from the pan, heaped it onto the small plank of wood, and sat down by the fire.

Pfffpt!

“Can we talk you into coming with us?” Risley asked Dorcia as he finished his cobbler.

“Funny,” Dorcia said, with a small array of dildo vibrators beneath her on the ground, “Really, my uncle’s going to expect us there Monday. Want search and rescue coming up here? Doubt they’d ask questions.”

“Yeah,” Risley said, “Can’t get them to let you stay longer?”

“Non refundable tickets?” Dorcia said, “I’d rather not cause panic.”

Risley caught her glances, toward his open crotch, with his balls and penis dangling loose.

“I’ll miss you all,” Dorcia said.

“Yeah,” Risley said, glanced over at Grant and Ifor wrestling on the grass of the meadow.

“Any of them work?” Maev asked.

Dorcia grabbed the yellow one, tapped it, it did not move.

“None,” Dorcia said, “I checked them all, sorry, they’re all dead.” Her eyes return to Risley’s crotch. “Got three live ones, borrow the boys?”

“Oh…OH!” Risley said, “Of course.”

“Figured,” Maev said.

Dorcia grabbed Maev’s hand, pulled her in. Maev got onto her hands and knees, kissed her, their tongues tapped together.

“IFOR! GRANT!” Risley shouted, “COME HERE!”

Maev and Dorcia’s arms wrapped and massaged their breasts as Ifor and Grant came over. Risley’s dick stiffened as he watched. The girls moved back toward the boys, and Risley laid back. Dorcia and Maev continued until their right hands massaged each other’s clitoris as they stood over Risley.

“It’s good,” Grant whispered.

Risley watched the girls continue to play, Maev’s butt directly over him, and his hard cock kept jutting upward. His hand reached for his shaft, however, Dorcia began to sink as she squatted. Risley’s hard tip touched between Dorcia’s lace, and it penetrated as Dorcia sat on his groin, and she licked at Maev’s carpeted petals.

“We’re their vibrators,” Risley explained.

Risley reached and massaged Dorcia’s clitoris, she flexed to move. Maev pointed, Ifor stood over Risley, and Ifor’s feet restrained Risley’s head. Ifor’s stiff erection was aimed at Maev as he pulled on her hips. Maev guided Ifor’s stiff erection into her. Dorcia kept her tongue in between the crevices, feeling as Ifor’s shaft began to drill, and her mouth otherwise over Maev’s clitoris. Dorcia breathed, mostly through her nose, but also what she could of her mouth across any gaps between Ifor’s hard cock and Maev’s skin.

“Good?” Ifor asked.

Risley considered his fate, Ifor’s buttocks and swinging scrotum were above him, having replaced Maev’s butt. Dorcia pointed and Grant crouched behind her on his knees. Grant’s hard shaft penetrated between her buttocks and he slipped onto the ground.

“Not sucking on that,” Risley whispered to Grant.

Dorcia snickered.

Grant slid his butt forward, his legs intertwined with Risley’s arms, until his hard cock was fully immersed up to its hilt. Risley felt Grant’s balls on his own, idling. Both waiting for their next instruction from Dorcia who seemed to be directing. Risley’s right fingers continued to massage, along with Grant’s, her clitoris. Both left hands tickled her nipples.

Pfffpt!

Risley smelled it, Ifor’s foul wind that blew across his face, however, he watched Ifor’s scrotum. A slight contraction, a bit of pulsing on the bit of the shaft outside Maev. Ifor tensed and relaxed, kept his cock in her for another moment, when it softened itself and pulled itself out. Dorcia licked at Ifor’s surplus of semen oozing out off his slit. Dorcia licked into Maev’s vulva, her tongue delved in with the determination to withdraw Ifor’s deposit. Maev’s moaning filled their ears.

Pfffpt!

Ifor’s butt, directly above Risley’s head, exhaled again. Maev’s buttocks remained on Ifor’s thighs, and Ifor’s scrotum dangled above as Maev held Ifor’s soft penis against her. Risley felt his own pressure built up while wafts of brown pubic hair peeked between Ifor’s scrotum and thigh. Rapid pulsations went through Risley as he felt himself release, the orgasm that sent hot splatters around the seal with Dorcia’s vulva, Risley sighed.

“Oops,” Maev muttered.

Risley saw it, but Ifor’s feet kept his head from twisting, as yellow dribbled from around Ifor’s flaccid foreskin as Maev sprinkled. Ifor’s yellow jet started, and both hit Risley in the chest. Risley felt his own magma surge come to its end, and his penis shrunk out to flop out onto Grant’s testicles. More heat as Dorcia peed her golden shower on his stomach. A fourth spot started on Risley’s balls, as Grant’s pissing penis was loosely nestled against Risley’s penis.

Pfffpt!

“Better?” Ifor asked Maev.

“Much,” Maev replied.

“Not all roses,” Risley said as yellow kept the sputter and squirting onto him.

“Oh,” Ifor said, “Mind if I take a dump?”

Pfffpt!

“YES!” Risley exclaimed as the anus directly above his face had a small sliver of brown creeping outward.

Risley moved his head upward, where it butted Ifor’s scrotum, unleashing the urine trickle into hair.

Pfffpt!

Risley ducked and moved his head again, to rest between Dorcia’s face and Maev’s crotch. Risley relaxed slightly, leaned his head back against Maev’s fuzzy petals.

Pfffpt! Pfffpt!

Risley turned his head as he heard it, brown droppings fell from Ifor’s butt to the ground, right where Risley’s head had been. Grant fell onto his backside, laughing. Dorcia, though, planted her mouth onto Risley’s, her tongue entered as she kissed.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Dorcia said to Risley.

“Um…” Risley started.

“Nonsense—we messed, we clean,” Dorcia said as she stood.

Risley slowly stood, let Grant’s legs slide along his, until he towered over Grant. Risley reached, grabbed Grant’s hand, and pulled him up.

“Come on,” Dorcia said as she pulled on Risley’s hand.

Grant drifted behind as Risley came to a halt between both of the solar water heating bags, each with their five gallons of water. Dorcia used the flexible shower head, dribbled a bit of the warm water across his skin. She grabbed the nylon stocking with a bar of soap, knelt in front of him.

“I prefer body wash after heated sex,” Dorcia said, as she studied Risley’s penis, “But hauling it is a pain.”

Risley sighed. Dorcia soaped up her hands, started with a rub of his skin around the belly button. A counterclockwise circle, over his naval, under it, and another lap, before Dorcia’s hands moved to his pubic hair.

“Nice,” Ifor said.

“Can we…?” Maev asked.

Ifor and Maev left.

“Each and every pube should be clean,” Dorcia said.

Risley wondered if she was checking the color coordination of his scrotum.

“I’d like to get clean before bed too,” Grant said.

“She’s being thorough,” Risley replied.

“Check for ingrown hairs on the balls, while you’re at it,” Grant said.

“Good thought,” Risley replied.

Dorcia, however, moved on, lathered his dick. She began to lift his foreskin. Risley retracted his foreskin, and she started to pull it away.

“Like this,” Risley said, as he demonstrated the cleaning beneath it.

Dorcia’s fingers picked it up, lathered upon the soft pink, and it stiffened back into a hard erection.

“Not again!” Dorcia exclaimed.

“It’s what you get for playing with the horn,” Grant said.

“It’s fine,” Risley said, “Keep going.”

Dorcia finished his dick, worked his scrotum. She plied inward, felt the testicles. She sniffed with her nose across his dick, and underneath it. She lathered more soap onto her hands. She reached underneath to between his buttocks, where her fingers soaped along his crack, from top to bottom, and focused on the anus.

“Why do it yourself when you can get full service instead?” Grant asked.

“Ignore him,” Dorcia said to Risley.

“For the first time in ages,” Risley said, “Why do I suddenly feel the need for a door?”

A quick rinse and Dorcia stood up, sniffed at Risley’s dry armpits.

“Bit strong but good,” Dorcia said.

Dorcia lathered underneath both armpits, let his stiff cock tease her pubic area. She placed his hands onto her breasts.

“Know a story?” Grant said, “On the eighth day, God told Adam and Eve that he had a gift for each them, Adam raised his hand and got the ability to stand and pee. Eve got the ability to have multiple orgasms. He needs time to reload.”

“Bet she needed to be washed too,” Risley replied.

Risley’s hands wet her breasts, grabbed the soap, and lathered while feeling inward. He lathered around her vulva, felt up her clitoris. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled tight as he brought his face to hers, a faint bearded stubble scratched upon her, and he gave her a kiss.

“Think I missed a spot,” Risley said.

“Where?” Dorcia asked.

Risley shoved his hard cock in between her petals.

“He said—” Dorcia started.

“It’s fully lathered up,” Risley said, “Keeping it warm.”

Risley did not move it, kept it buried as the stood there.

“I’ll see what Ifor and her are up to,” Grant said before he wandered away.

“He’ll be disappointed,” Dorcia said.

“Oh?” Risley said.

“I still don’t know why she’s letting Ifor in,” Dorcia said, “She spurned every boy at camp, even Danny at home.”

“Well,” Risley said, “Let Grant clean your butt when he returns.”

“And I can’t believe I—” Dorcia said, “Felt good.”

“Well, lets hurry,” Risley said, “Sun’s down, doubt the water’s going to stay warm. But first—mind?”

Risley’s penis softened, a bit, still inside her, as he felt the bladder release.

“A rinse,” Risley said as the golden liquid seeped out of her, his dick stiffened back, “I’ll wash it.”

“You felt the need to piss inside me?” Dorcia asked.

“Yeah,” Risley said, “Everybody peed on me—seemed only right.”

Dorcia stepped back, his erection left her, jutted out free.

“You can wash yourself,” she said.

“Where did they go?” Grant asked as he returned to Risley and Dorcia. “They weren’t where they’re supposed to be. I shouted, no reply.”

Risley and Dorcia followed Grant.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ifor sat on the log, by the wide and deep stream in the dim and fading light. Maev stood in front of him.

“Thank you,” Ifor said.

“For?” Maev asked.

“For coming along, for being here,” Ifor said, “You’ll need to move to catch your ride back, and we ought to be making some progress ourselves. You’ve been fun, both of you. You—I’ll never forget you, you’re not some ordinary girl.”

“I’m not some trophy!” Maev snapped.

“Dad’s always taught me to say thank you after somebody gives you something,” Ifor said, “I appreciate what you gave me, I appreciate you. Here, sit.” He waved, she sat next to him. “I mean it, thank you.”

Ifor heard it, glanced, where Maev defecated onto the log, her butt far enough back for her sludge to slide across the bark.

“I’ve been around you guys too much,” Maev said.

“Don’t grab it and you’ll be fine,” Ifor said.

Maev laughed, leaned to the side, and pushed onto Ifor. Her hands flailed as she tumbled down. A quick roll and a splash. Her arms loose as the deep stream carried her fast. Ifor bolted into a run, his toes pushed into the mud, as he followed, not daring to jump into the swift current, not yet. Maev bobbed several times until the stream widened. Ifor ran ahead, jumped. His feet did not reach the bottom, however, he floated near her. He put one arm in, another, and he crawled, swam, until he reached her. Ifor wrapped his right arm around her, she did not respond. He heard the roar from the falls that drained into their fishing lake. Ifor kicked his feet as the current caused him to drift toward the other side. Ifor’s kick pushed them closer to that far shore, when they ran into a tree jutting out into the water. Ifor grabbed it, held onto Maev, arrested their movement. His feet found the ground, pulled Maev out of the water, onto the grass above.

“Come on,” Ifor said to her, she failed to respond.

Ifor checked her mouth, with breath, and felt her pulse. Ifor began to shiver and glanced around. He pushed her against the tree and laid on top of her. Her expressionless face remained beneath him as the chills got to him and Ifor blacked out.


	25. Partings

Friday, July 31st

Ifor woke with the dawn. Beneath him, Maev was smiling back up at him. Both of them were under a silvery metallic blanket that swaddled them, by the tree.

“Oh, hi,” Ifor said.

“Lesbian my ass!” Grant said as he stood nearby, “Golden Claw—you ought to know better than to go for a moon light swim! You were both hypothermic when we found you—unconscious!”

“She fell in,” Ifor said, “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, sure,” Grant said, “At least you had the decency to crap on a log or we wouldn’t have found you.”

“Dorcia?” Maev asked.

“They were looking for a way to take a hot bath together,” Grant said, “While I got stuck with two popsicles.”

“Sorry for the trouble,” Ifor said as he stood, “Let’s get back—I’m hungry.”

Maev stood up, stumbled.

“My foot—” Maev said, “Feels a bit off.”

“I’ll help,” Ifor said.

Grant slung his backpack onto his back. Ifor lent an arm to Maev, who used it to help avoid her right foot.

“When are you never in the mood?” Grant stammered as Ifor’s dick swelled up.

“If you’re worrying, how do you think girls feel about it?” Maev said, “That demand to shove it into us, regardless of our mood. Think about how much crow you gave after giving blow jobs.”

“That was a game,” Grant said.

“Was it?” Maev said, “For girls, that’s life.”

“Oh,” Grant said.

“Girls do it to return the favors you’ve bestowed onto them,” Maev said, “To see the smiles the pleasure brings to you, because the girl cares about you. To assume the act is pleasant to her, is naive at best, or degrading in the worst.”

Maev started to put a bit of pressure onto her foot.

“Better?” Ifor asked.

“Tolerable,” Maev said.

“We’ll wrap it before you head off,” Grant said.

“Trying to get rid of us?” Maev asked.

“No,” Grant said, “Thought you had to return to wherever you started.”

“Plans are always subject to change,” Maev said.

“Like packing clothes?” Ifor asked.

“Um…yeah,” Grant said, “That.”

Maev laughed and they entered the meadow. Tent was down, and every pack was there and packed, except Grant’s already on his back.

“Ready?” Dorcia asked.

Grant walked up behind Dorcia, used his hard erection to tap at the crevice between her buttocks. She turned around.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve got the time,” Dorcia said, “Any longer and they send out the search party.”

“Not quite,” Maev said, “I mean it’s over a three day hike, we’ve got little room to play around.”

“I’ll squeeze another trip out of Grampa,” Dorcia said, “Toward the end of summer, visit you.”

“I’d like that,” Grant said before he placed his lips onto hers.

Dorcia gave Risley a hug and a kiss.

“No further—not enough time,” Grant said.

Risley glared at Grant.

“And you too,” Dorcia said to Ifor as she hugged him.

Maev gave Ifor a firm hug, and a kiss.

“Well, suppose this is it,” Ifor said as he put his backpack onto his shoulders, “Can your Uncle put us up?”

“Explaining this?” Dorcia asked as Ifor lifted her pack, and she put it on.

“Yeah, guess that would be awkward,” Ifor said, “Likely make us dress too.”

Dorcia laughed. Risley and Maev had their backpacks on.

“Ladies first,” Risley said.

Maev and Dorcia took the lead across the meadow.

“Your butts have to last us,” Grant said.

Dorcia shook hers, beneath the frame of her backpack.

They walked up the trail, the few hundred feet to where it divided. They stopped. Dorcia and Maev turned around. Nipples on their breasts, Dorcia’s smooth pelvis, along with Maev’s blond rug. Ifor’s erection, all three erections, stood firm.

“Well, until later,” Grant said. He kissed Dorcia on the cheek.

“Later,” Dorcia said, “We look forward to meeting you again, soon.”

“We shall,” Ifor said, “We shall.”

“Bye,” Maev said.

Dorcia and Maev turned, walked along the dirt path that headed southeast for a couple of hundred feet. Both turned back, waved as the smiled, before they resumed their trot around the corner; both disappeared from the boys’ view.

“Those were some nice butts,” Risley said.

“Like fishing, catch and release so there will be even more later,” Grant said, “Lets head out, we need to cover some ground ourselves.”

“You’re the one who said—” Risley started.

“That was weeks ago,” Grant said, “We only planned one until they showed up, and I don’t regret the deviation, do you?”

“No,” Risley said, smile on his face.

“We’ll loiter elsewhere, as time permits,” Grant said, “Over a hundred miles remaining—a couple of ghost towns if we’re interested. However, these trails will help, for a while.”

Grant led the way, they headed along the trail headed north.

“Guess it’s back to watching your butt,” Risley said.

“You like it,” Grant said.

“Looks nice and friendly,” Risley said, “But not like Ifor likes it.”

“Dorcia watched yours in the same way,” Grant said.

“That’s different,” Risley said.

“Is it?” Ifor pulled slightly on his own scrotum, “You still seem—dunno.”

Grant gripped Risley’s shoulder.

“Alright?” Grant asked.

“Suppose so,” Risley said.

“Good,” Grant said.

“Never quite got your gay thing,” Risley said to Ifor.

“Read about it in that handbook,” Ifor said, “It’s called bisexual, as in, I get the best of both worlds. Girls turn me on, and so can you.”

“I knew that!” Risley snapped.

“It’s not like every girl turns you on,” Ifor said, “Surely Marcia doesn’t!”

“What kind of fool do you think I am?” Risley said, “Anybody who takes her up has to be a complete idiot!”

“Wonder what Cody’s gotten up to?” Grant asked as they ducked around a large tree as the trail bent.

* * *

Dressed in a white T–shirt and white shorts, with a blue life jacket on, Cody paddled the canoe into the lake and let it drift. Marcia held a fishing pole, let its monofilament line loosen as the weighted lure fell into the water. Ripples went out.

“You’re supposed to—” Cody started, “Never mind, it’s in the water.”

“Only need two fish,” Marcia said.

Cody watched her, slightly twisted in her stature, her fingers wrapped around the pole as she held it beneath the mostly sunny sky. His mind drifted to where those fingers would be better laid, on him. Her erect nipples stood out on the green T–shirt, reminder that she had stopped wearing brassieres since she came to the camp. His underwear seemed to shrink, bound his stiffening flesh into an uncomfortable curve. A quick adjustment failed to work, instead, the binding went tighter and increased his discomfort. Cody pulled at the front of his shorts, unzipped it, pushed down on the elastic band, and released his hard erection from captivity.

“Quit rocking the boat,” Marcia said, her eyes on the water.

Elastic band of his underwear kept its push upward, the discomfort continued, so he pulled his white T–shirt down before he moved his white shorts and underwear forward to his knees.

“You’re still…” Marcia turned, her eyes landed on his erection, “Here? You’re serious?”

It took Cody a moment to reconcile her words with his thoughts, understood her question. He glanced around, other boats were out on the water, actively paddling, but kept some distance from them.

“Your lure needs fixing!” Cody shouted as he removed his life jacket.

“Huh?” Marcia replied.

Cody moved forward, off the bench onto the bottom of the fiberglass canoe. He pushed his underwear and shorts to his ankles. She moved backward, her hand held her shorts so they appeared caught on the forward bench; no underwear and her bare buttocks exposed. She leaned forward, her eyes focused on the fishing pole.

“Oops,” Marcia said, “My bad.”

Cody scooted forward, his hard erection jutted upward and his scrotum brushed along the smooth fiberglass. His glans touched upward, tapped until it found the hard point, and he pulled back slightly and pushed up. His pubic hair brushed against the skin at the base of her buttocks.

“Need the pole?” Marcia asked.

Cody reached around, held onto her stomach, as her hands held the fishing pole nearby.

“This is…” Cody started as he began the routine. Suction as his dick moved within her, he tried to keep the pace slow, however, his eyes glanced around at the other boats, wondering if they caught on. His hands slid down on her stomach, followed the fishing pole to the base, to feel her clitoris between her legs. His fingers dropped the inch, landed on his own hard cock slipping between the feminine petals.

“Need help?” Marcia asked.

“Got it,” Cody said as he kept up the rhythmic motion between them, his hard shaft stimulated until he felt the quiver start. Cody held himself against her buttocks tight against his loin, his hard cock buried as deep as the geometry would allow, and felt the pulsations of his release. Cody waited until it felt done, and pulled out a softening dick. Marcia restored her shorts.

“See,” Cody said loudly, “All better!”

“You know,” Marcia said, “It’d be more realistic to them if you pulled in the line.”

“We’ll get better,” Cody said.

Cody leaned back, used his life preserver for a head support as he laid backward on the fiberglass bottom. His legs stayed on her bench, spread apart, as his freshly juiced circumcised penis hung out in the sunshine, his balls weren’t ready to go into his shorts, not yet.

“Fun,” Marcia said as she glanced at him, the white T–shirt stopped short of his triangle of brown pubic hair, “Best to cover up.”

“Not yet,” Cody said.

Cody felt that pang of guilt, enjoying a pleasure he knew Risley couldn’t enjoy, not ever again. Cody found it ironic that with all his pushing them to get closer to God, they beat him to the punch. Warmed balls beneath the sun, Cody couldn’t help himself drift into a slumber.

* * *

Ifor paused for a moment, removed a pocket knife from his backpack, and grabbed a stick. His bare feet moved and he resumed walking along the trail, his soft penis swayed as he’s long since become accustomed to. Risley caught up, walked next to Ifor.

“You packed a spare pocket knife?” Risley asked Ifor.

“Then he’s been carrying it,” Grant said.

Ifor whistled as he whittled on the stick, the blood red plastic casing in his grip.

“It’s Maev’s,” Ifor said.

“You took her—” Risley started.

“She lent it,” Ifor said, “If she wants it back, she’ll have to come to Portland to get it.”

“All I got out of them was a maybe,” Grant said, “You, Ifor—you—”

“Bisexual or not,” Risley said, “You’ve still got that dick.”

“Observant,” Ifor said, “Take a look, make certain my dick’s still there, will you please?”

“I mean,” Risley said, after a brief glance, “She’s a Lesbian, how did you manage to have sex with her?”

“That’s between her and me—end of story,” Ifor said, thinking of the antics of the previous evening, his dick within her, “Unless she says otherwise, you’ll have to use your imagination, which you have plenty of.”

Ifor kept walking as his flesh finished stiffening, and his hard erection swayed beneath his fluffy brown pubic hair.

“You’re getting rather hard up,” Grant said as he spun around, glanced at Ifor’s stiff cock, before returning to take point.

“He takes after his Dad,” Risley stated.

“You’re saying that Sgt. Ulverston is bisexual?” Grant asked.

Ifor spat and shook his head.

“We’re naked yet we still have boundaries,” Ifor said, “I’m happy we’ve opened most—but fences are fences. Your ass is pretty—” Ifor briefly slowed enough to glance at Risley’s buttocks “—but I’m not shoving my dick up it because I know you wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh,” Risley said as his eyebrows lowered.

“Unless you’re saying you want me to stick my dick in there,” Ifor asked, “Are you?”

“No—no, not that,” Risley said, fast.

Grant laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Risley said.

“Actually, it is,” Ifor said. He laughed.

“So,” Grant said, “What are the odds for seeing those girls again?”

“Good,” Ifor said, with a touch of confidence, “I mean, we’ll get onto chat—I’m not enabling any filters with them.”

“Unless they find somebody else more interesting,” Risley said.

“I’m kinda with Risley on this one,” Grant said.

“We made an impression on them,” Ifor said.

“One dump at a time,” Risley said.

Ifor whittled his stick to a point, dropped it and grabbed another.

“You know,” Ifor said, “We haven’t really considered where we’d get clothes—for the return flight. If it were up to me, I’d fly naked.”

“That’s not happening,” Risley said.

“Nope,” Grant said.

“Then where—?” Ifor asked.

“Can we worry about that later?” Grant asked.

“You intend to wing it,” Ifor said, “Suppose that’ll work. I mean, the first cop who sees us would give us something, but then he’d make a report. Dad might find out and it’d get ugly.”

“A thrift store?” Grant said, “Assuming they have one up here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Risley said, “In the meanwhile, let my dick enjoy the sunshine.”

“And butts,” Ifor said as he glanced at Grant’s flexing muscles.

“What’s important is that we’re—” Risley started.

“Alive!” Grant exclaimed.

* * *

“Dead!” Captain Shrader said to the small group in the meeting room that evening at the main office at Beacon of the Light youth camp. “Unequivocal, they are dead. Their identities confirmed by the medical examiner and their deaths were accidental, which will satisfy any life insurance policies you may have had on them.”

“You’re certain?” Lovell asked.

“You have my condolences, my sympathies, and my prayers,” Captain Shrader said, “I wish this had gone better, I truly do.”

“Doesn’t help,” Lovell replied.

“Nothing will,” Captain Shrader said as he gave Lovell a grip on the shoulder, “Time may help, but even that’s uncertain.”

“What next?” Alyce asked.

“Go home,” said the slender man entering the meeting room.

“You must be Rick,” Captain Shrader said, “Everybody, meet Rick Dimple, the new director for Beacon of the Light youth camp.”

“We’ve been very generous, however, the camp must heal,” Rick said, “You have what you need, therefore, it’s time to depart unless you’re a registered camper.” His eyes directed themselves at Cody, who was sitting next to Marcia. “We’re not cruel, so I’ll give you enough time to make arrangements.”

“I’ll help coordinate those for you, if needed,” Captain Shrader said, “Let you all have a final evening and a night in these woods, maybe they’ll help you in your grief before you return to the hustle of a major city tomorrow.”

“That’s agreeable,” Rick said, “Later.”

“Sargent?” Captain Shrader asked.

“Of course,” Lovell said.

“I recommend you contact your supervisor if you have any questions,” Captain Shrader said to Lovell, “Good night and I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Captain Shrader walked and left the meeting room with Rick.

“Suggest you pack,” Spencer said.

Alyce took a moment, but stood.

“I didn’t want this,” Alyce said.

“See you in the morning!” Marcia announced before she led herself and Cody out of the meeting room.

“Neither did I,” Lovell said to Alyce, before he glanced at Spencer’s motions, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Lovell and Spencer left the office.

“What?” Lovell asked.

“Malcolm messaged me,” Spencer said.

They climbed into the Portland Police Helicopter.

“They’re here,” Malcolm said to Captain Alexis Sefton on the video screen.

“Lt. Ivinghoe filled me in,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “I need my helicopter back and I need my officers back. You found what you were looking for—not the desired outcome, you have my tears and sympathies there. I need you back, so I’m officially recalling you.”

“Understood,” Spencer said.

It took Lovell a moment before he swallowed.

“Understood,” Lovell said.

“I’ve reserved flights for you tomorrow,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “I expect to hear that you’ve boarded, okay?”

“Understood,” Lovell said.

“I expect to see you, in my office, tomorrow afternoon,” Alexis said, “I’ll lend you my shoulder if necessary. God bless you.”

Her image vanished.

“And not have you fly—?” Lovell asked.

“Trust me, it’s cheaper,” Malcolm said, “And you’re not going to want to miss the flight.”

* * *

Marcia felt it welling up within her as she entered Cody’s Focus Cabin.

“Guess it’s starting to sink in,” Cody said, his eyes upon her face as tears began to drop, and his shorts dropped.

“We’re now talking about the remains of my brother!” Marcia said as she pulled her shirt off, “He needles me and appears dimwitted during life, and it’s only when you realize he’s dead do you understand how much you truly loved him.” She dropped her shorts, stood naked next to him popping a boner.

Cody grabbed her oversized stuffed camp dog, he rolled onto the bed, and let his erection rest against the plush toy’s rear; the tip of his hard erection poked above the fuzzy fake fur.

“Thanks for trying,” Marcia said, “Isn’t that a bit wrong?”

Cody stood up, held her tight for a few minutes, as her tears dripped down his back. His hands massaged into her back and into the rump of her buttocks. Odor of his armpits wafted into her nose, reminded her Cody’s here, and she was his focus of concern as the grief kept flowing through them. She felt his softening penis against her, the pubic hair, reminders he’s baring himself to her, the love he’ll provide as she has to come to terms of her brother’s demise.

“I don’t understand the Lord’s plan,” Cody said, “I trust there was a good reason for this, and they’re hiking with him now, hiking as they wanted to do.”

“Doesn’t replace the fact they’re gone,” Marcia replied.

Cody turned off the lights as he led her out the cabin door into the moonlight. Cody turned, led the way as they scrambled up the hill of boulders, until they were midway up. Cody sat first on the flat rock, Marcia sat to his left, with their knees at the lip so their lower legs and feet dangled over the edge. Cody leaned back, rested on his elbows.

“Guess I was trying to avoid it,” Cody said, “I let my friends walk into death and now they’re dead. Nothing can change that, and I’m responsible for it.”

Marcia’s right fingers lightly gripped his circumcised soft penis, moved it around.

“Your shower would’ve been a lot different if you had indeed slayed them,” Marcia said, “For what it’s worth, I do forgive you.”

“Up, hold it aimed up,” Cody said.

Took Marcia moment, before she did. A rush, his stream arched up and over the edge as he peed.

“So, what’s next?” Cody said, “I’d like to see you when I get back.”

“You could come back now,” Marcia said, “I mean, everybody would understand.”

“It’ll still look good on the resume for seminar,” Cody said, “I’ll finish the summer here.”

“I mean, there will be services,” Marcia said.

“They’d fly me down and back,” Cody said, “This is the best spot to atone to them, as best as I can.”

“Wish this would go on,” Marcia said.

“Me too,” Cody said as he wrapped his arm around her.

They laid on their backs. Her right hand stayed on his pubic hair, saw a shooting star above.

“Made a wish,” Marcia said.

“Think I know what it is,” Cody replied.

They simply laid there, not remembering when they drifted off.

* * *

Saturday, August 1st

Helicopter blades in the distance, Cody woke first to the sun above the horizon, illuminating his pubic hair and heating up his balls on the large flat boulder halfway up the hill. The green Alaska State Police helicopter headed for the lake.

“Up!” Cody snapped.

“You let—” Marcia started as she woke.

“Hurry,” Cody said as he jumped to stand up, naked on the rock.

He tugged on her arm, enough for her to keep her to balanced as they scrambled as fast as they could down the rocks. His erection firmed up quick, opted for speed instead of stealth as he heard footsteps on the service road. He pulled Marcia into his focus cabin, and closed the door.

“Let’s not piss on an otherwise wonderful night,” Cody said as he handed her clothes to her, “But—”

“MARCIA!” came the voice.

Cody scrambled into his red T–shirt and blue jeans.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“She’s packing!” Cody shouted as he put on his socks.

“Good!” Alyce said.

Shoes in, Cody came out first, to her, the one that was slated to become his Mother–in–law if Marcia’s plans came to fruition. Cody knew their relationship wasn’t going to be a good one for some while, being responsible for her son’s death.

“They’re waiting for us,” Alyce said, with a black dress on.

Marcia came out wearing a bright green dress. She had her school pack, her duffel bag, and the plush stuffed dog in her hands. Cody grabbed her duffel bag and school pack, carried them.

“Taking responsibility for once, good,” Alyce said.

They walked the trail, the service road, and next trail, came down to the grass of the parade ground between the dining hall and the lake, where the Portland and Alaska Police helicopters were parked side by side.

“Which one?” Cody asked.

“Dunno,” Marcia sald.

Malcolm took the duffel bag and school pack, loaded them onto the black Portland Police helicopter. Lovell was decked out in his formal black Police uniform, with white gloves on. Spencer and Malcolm likewise. Rick, the man from the previous night, came over to them.

“I’m truly sorry this didn’t turn out better for you, all of you,” Rick said, “I came across a bit harsher than I ought to have, but I’ve got a camp to save. If you want to come up next year, for a week, we’ll host you.”

“Thank you,” Alyce said, “I think that under better circumstances, this would be an excellent retreat. To me, it’ll always be the place that took my son away from me.”

“To that, we truly regret,” Rick said, “Safe travels.”

Alyce climbed onto the Portland Police helicopter along with Marcia and Lovell.

Spencer grabbed Cody by the shoulder, pulled him onto the green helicopter of the Alaska State Police.

“What?!” Cody stammered as the helicopter powered up its engines and climbed upward.

“You’d regret not coming,” Spencer said, “They’ll return you after this errand.”

Cody felt his temper start to get to him as the helicopter made its way, the ground moved below, and they crossed the water as they approached Anchorage, landed at Ted Stevens International Airport. Guilt replaced his anger as the three black hearses stood by, waiting, and the helicopter landed by them.

Cody climbed out of the helicopter before Spencer as both helicopters powered won. Alyce in her black dress, and Marcia already there. Malcolm stepped in front.

“Dear Heavenly Father,” Malcolm said, “We pray you accept their souls as we send their remains home. May Ifor Ulverston, Risley Gillespie, and Grant Barnet rest in peace. Amen.”

They climbed onto the waiting baggage trucks. Slowly, they made their way along the marked travel ways that wove between the terminals, until they came to a Boeing 737 with the markings of Gospel Airlines, where they stopped.

Spencer grabbed Cody’s shoulder, and pointed at the hearse. Cody understood, followed over to the first of the hearses. Malcolm and Donald took the rear of the casket, while Cody and Spencer grabbed the front. They carried it from the hearse to the airplane, lifted it to avoid the bag belt, where the baggage handlers brought it in. They repeated this for the other two caskets.

Marcia approached Cody, kissed him on the cheek, before she followed Alyce, Lovell, and Spencer up the stairs of the jetway. Cody returned with Malcolm and Donald to one of the baggage trucks. Malcolm drove it back to the helicopters and parked it so they watched the runway. They waited, until Malcolm pointed as the Gospel Airlines’ 737 taxied to the end of the runway.

Cody understood, its belly carried his friends, as the engines roared to life. Thrust pushed the magnificent machine along the runway, defied the order of the world as the wing exerted its influence to pitch the aircraft upward. As the burden lifted, it’s landing gear retracted into the belly.

“See you in Portland,” Malcolm said as he climbed out of the truck. He took off his white gloves and walked for the Portland Police helicopter.

“You too,” Donald said to Cody.

Cody hopped off. Donald moved into the driver’s seat of the baggage truck, moved the selector, and the truck headed off.

“Bye,” Cody said to the faint small outline in the sky as the airplane rolled into a bank.

Cody climbed back onto the helicopter of the Alaska State Police, and it lifted off the ground. Cody could not control it, brought his red T–shirt to his face as he began to cry.


	26. Grief

Saturday, August 1st

“I thought you had our entire route planned out,” Risley said as they walked along the wooded trail.

“No, not even before we got shot at,” Grant said, “I had points of interest, abandoned ranger stations, ghost towns, that sort, all centered around our box of goodies. We’re off the edge of that planning and I don’t have a tablet to research more, so a bit of guesswork is required. Good thing I downloaded the maps for all of Alaska before we left, else we’d be lost.”

Ifor whittled on a stick.

“Suppose we could turn around, run after the girls,” Risley said.

“And get dressed?” Ifor asked.

“You’re happy sucking my dick, but I want her to,” Risley said.

“Know which trailhead they’re getting picked up at?” Grant said, “We’d have to know that.”

“We know what trail the left on and it’d be a three day trek,” Risley said, “Surely we could work that out.”

“Oh, the clothes!” Ifor exclaimed.

They laughed as they all had come to enjoy having their dicks hang loose.

“Well, if we did catch up,” Grant said, “And they had signal anywhere in between, Dorcia could coordinate with her ride, alter it. You know how it is, call out and things can happen.”

“We did lose our virginity, for instance,” Risley said.

“Yep,” Ifor quipped.

“Best reason for a delay, ever,” Grant said.

“If only we had our phones,” Risley said, “You know, have some clothes shipped up—the loose ones.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear that conversation,” Grant said, “Hey Mom, can you send something for me to Fairbanks, preferably delivered to the middle of the wilderness—don’t ask questions.”

“Especially awkward if the other person called her up pretending to be you,” Ifor said, “Like my Dad would even understand.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Risley said.

Ifor glanced at the other two buttocks, knew it to be the best idea, the best summer ever.

“As far as our folks know,” Ifor said, “We’re at camp!”

* * *

Spencer stood back in the hall as Lovell entered Captain Alexis Sefton’s office, four floors up in the headquarters of the Portland Police. Lovell stood in front of her desk as she sat down behind it.

“My condolences, that’s both from me and the whole department,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “One of the few times Kex has been remotely friendly, we all understand it’s a rough time for you.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Lovell said.

Captain Alexis Sefton shuffled tablets on her desk, tapped.

“You also caused quite a stir in Alaska,” the Captain said.

“My son—it’s frustrating,” Lovell said.

“If somebody came in here and did what you did?” Alexis said, “I’d be booking them on interference of police business. Understood?”

“Sorry Ma’am,” Lovell said.

“Gracious but I doubt you truly are,” the Captain said, “Fortunately, I understand, am flexible, and tolerant up to a point. You have reached that point, so I have to put my foot down. For the sake of your career, yourself, you need to step back.”

“Ifor—” Lovell started.

“I will miss his bubbly face too, I’m grieving with you,” Captain Sefton said, “I’ve even had to shut my door for it, first time since I lost my childhood friend, Daisy.”

“I remember,” Lovell said.

“You need the break to catch up with life,” Alexis said, “And it’s so ordered. I’m placing you on administrative leave, effective immediately. You are to report back no earlier than a week from today—if you need more time, I’ll grant it unconditionally. In the meanwhile, as your friend, go home, mourn, and prepare to bury him.”

Lovell stood there.

“Lovell…” Spencer whispered.

“Sgt. Piper, help him,” the Captain said.

“This way,” Spencer said as he gripped Lovell’s shoulder.

Slow, Lovell and Spencer went to the elevators, rode down, and went out into the parking garage to Spencer’s Jaguar. Spencer held the car door open and Lovell got in. Lovell remained silent on the ride yet fast drive, until Spencer pulled up in front of the green house.

“It’s so—different,” Lovell remarked.

“It’s far from easy, your path,” Spencer said, “However, the Lord has kept you here, and you’re needed in there. Your daughter and your wife still depend on you.”

“I let Ifor down,” Lovell said.

“I hope you come to forgive yourself,” Spencer said, “Your duty is here.”

Spencer walked around the car, helped pull Lovell upright. Lovell’s feet moved slow as he went along the path of stones, his breathing labored as he went up the concrete steps to the open door. Spencer held the screen door open, Lovell approached the lady with the long flowing brown hair. Lovell held her tight.

“I’ll catch you around,” Spencer said, and he left.

As Spencer skipped on the stones, a man in a black dress shirt with a white collar tab approached, turned onto the path.

“Sorry Pastor,” Spencer said, “Think they need a bit of time.”

“Thank you Sargent,” the man said, “I shall wait.” The pastor sat on the first step, prayed.

Spencer got into his Jaguar, turned on the engine, and left; a weight lifted from Spencer’s shoulders, the end of his role in this awful task. Spencer blew a stop sign as he made a fast U–turn, drove past the Ulverston’s on Briarwood Avenue, and went home.

* * *

Cody pulled his shirt off as he walked the service road, turned onto the path to his focus cabin, and dropped his blue jeans before the door closed. He smelled the perfume that lingered, her perfume, Marcia’s. He spotted the pink, a brassiere dangling from a loose nail of the window. Cody grabbed the brassiere as he sat cross–legged on the bed. Her scent on it distracted his guilt from his mind, thought about the first time he experienced her without it, in the dark in bed. His flesh stiffened, he set the left cup beneath his flesh, and proceeded to stroke.

Knock! Knock!

Cody felt the rush, the spasm, as he ejaculated, squirted the off–white into the cup.

Knock! Knock!

“Cody?” came the familiar voice.

Cody’s left hand shielded his softening dick while his right cracked the door. Hugo with his olive skin was there.

“Oh,” Hugo said, “My bad.”

“It’s alright,” Cody said, the desire for a friend overcoming the bashfulness of his nudity..

“You’re naked,” Hugo said as he turned around, stepped backwards into the cabin, “You always pee naked? I do.”

“Asking for penance,” Cody said, thinking fast on his feet as he grabbed the white shorts and shirt, “I’ve sinned and need God to see me with nothing hidden.”

“Suppose that makes sense,” Hugo said.

Cody slipped on his sandals.

“Fine now,” Cody said as he patted his T–shirt and shorts down.

“No underwear?” Hugo asked as he turned around.

“It’s obvious?” Cody said, “I was trying to be quick.”

“Not really,” Hugo said, “Anyways, I came here with news for you.”

“News?” Cody asked, though there was only one bit of news that would make Cody happy, that there was all a big misunderstanding.

“You’ve been released from purgatory,” Hugo said, “Spare bunk in my cabin where…sorry, it was Alexander’s.”

“Thanks,” Cody said while giving Hugo a pat on the back.

“You seem a bit…grumpy,” Hugo said.

“Yeah, got my friends killed,” Cody said, “I would be.”

“Have you tried the Chapel?” Hugo said, “Should help.”

“Of all the things—it slipped my mind,” Cody said.

Hugo followed as Cody left the focus cabin, walked along the service road, went onto the dirt path, twisting, until they came to the altar. Surrounded by a handful of benches, and a large cross resting on it, Cody walked toward it.

“I can manage,” Cody said.

“Sorry, new rule,” Hugo said, “No camper’s to be left alone by themselves.”

“I…I understand,” Cody said, knowing his role in all of it.

“I’ll stay quiet,” Hugo said as he sat on one of the benches.

Cody knelt before the altar, brought his hands into prayer, and his mind kept dwelling on the friends he let slip from him.

* * *

Marcia entered the very warm and humid house through the back door, the loud thunder came from within, undid the snaps beneath her dress of her bra as the cups began to pull in the moisture from the air.

“Marcia!” Alyce stammered.

“Sorry,” Marcia said, not wanting to explain her breasts complaining about it.

“You’ve all I’ve got left,” Alyce said.

Marcia watched her mother go into the dining room, while she went up the stairs. Marcia pulled the loose dress off as she reached the top, when the smell, the locker room smell, came rapidly to her nose. It’s purpleness, Risley’s bedroom smelled richer than it had when she left, when she had first gotten the notice that Risley was missing.

“He’s gone!” came her mother’s exclaim from downstairs.

Volume to the documentary dropped. It answered the long running debate Marcia had with Risley, what’d it’d take to get their father to actually turn them off. Instead, she went into her light green bedroom. Her dress onto her chair, her bra and panties down, and she realized who she missed the most, and it was Cody, more than her brother, she missed Cody despite knowing he’d be back by the end of the month.

“Do you even remember him?!” came her mother’s next exclaim.

Muffled bangs of a Howitzer aggravated Marcia’s sense of balance, and she ran out the door, hard left, and doubled over the toilet as she puked.

“Honey?” asked Alyce.

Marcia turned around as she stood. Her mother was in the doorway, still in her black dress.

“Upset stomach,” Marcia said.

Marcia felt the embarrassment, the shame, of being naked in front of her mother. Alyce simply hugged Marcia, drew her in close.

“Sorry, but I’ll be leaning on you,” Alyce said, “I need you to help me.”

“Oh?” Marcia asked.

“I don’t think your father remembers much of anything,” Alyce said, “Shame…used to play with you and Risley…” Alyce wept.

Marcia understood, she was now the teddy bear. Despite the soreness in her breasts, Marcia waited a few minutes before squirming, and Alyce let go.

“Mom, I’m—” Marcia started.

“Beautiful,” Alyce said, “With the humidifier AND the furnace running in the summer…I don’t want to lose you too.”

Marcia’s stomach growled.

“I need…” Marcia rushed past her mother, turned left, but the smell from Risley’s bedroom stopped her. Inside, some of Risley’s purple underwear laid on the floor.

“Leave it be,” Alyce said, “Vicar’s nearly here, come.”

“I need to—” Marcia started.

“You’re overdue for your physical, no point in putting anything back on,” Alyce said, “And with how you were holding Cody’s hands, I think its time for the talk too.”

Marcia followed her down the steps, to the man in black waiting in the kitchen.

“Beautiful as ever,” said the Vicar.

Marcia wondered about Cody.

* * *

Cody felt himself being shaken, again. He finally opened his eyes, he was on the ground leaning back against the cabin.

“You’re alive—that wasn’t a short nap,” Hugo said, “And you’re about to miss dinner.”

“Later, maybe,” Cody said, not hungry.

“And evening service,” Hugo said.

“I’ll be there for that,” Cody said.

“You pissed yourself,” Hugo said.

Cody rushed to twist, his jeans soaked.

“It hurts, right?” Hugo asked, “Why did you piss yourself?”

“I’ll be at church,” Cody said, “Skipping dinner, not hungry.” His stomach growled.

“We’re not supposed to—” Hugo started.

“I’ll be fine,” Cody said, felt the dampness, “I’d rather not.”

“They’ll blame you if I disappear,” Hugo said.

“Already lost three,” Cody stated.

Hugo left.

Cody had his clothes off before he entered his cabin, he wasn’t going to wear the stentch any longer than he had to. Cody grabbed a fresh set of clothes, including a T–shirt and jeans, grabbed a towel.

“Marcia—” Cody started, “Oh yeah.”

Cody peeked back outside, put his clothes onto his bunk, slipped on his sandals, and stepped outside with only hit towel slung over his shoulders. Sunshine warmed his dangling dick as he ran to the showers, and entered the building. He slipped beneath a shower head and let the hot water flow over his skin.

“Marcia…” Cody muttered again, part of him expecting her to be there. Her curves, her standing there and holding his dick, the memories filled his mind.

Cody imagined the kiss, he gripped his hardening cock as she had. He let go of the handle, the water stopped, and he sat on the warm, damp cement. His legs spread, his pubic hair pushed against the palm of his right hand, and his fingers encircled the stiff shaft. Cody closed his eyes, let his imagination replay in an effort to bring her back, of his cock slipping within her, even though he knew it was his hand stimulating it. He felt the first false tremor and kept rubbing. As the next tremor started, he opened his eys, and watched his white trail shoot out of his slit and fall to the floor to the right of the shower drain. As his dick softened, he stood up and resumed the shower.

After his shower, Cody ran back to his new cabin, entered, and sat down at the desk. He grabbed his tablet from the pile, the one with Acts Church marked on it next to a lighthouse.

“Dear Lord,” Cody said to his tablet, “I’ve got a confession to make. This girl, I love her and I miss her. I need to know how to make her my girlfriend when I get home. Maybe the minister knows the form I need to submit?”

Cody tapped it off. He felt better as he knew he missed Marcia as a boyfriend should, and it was time to formalize it, grab her.

Buzz!

Chimes came across at the same time. Cody rushed to dress and ran. He made his way to the parade ground where everybody was moving toward the amphitheater. A new tall partition divded down the middle, boys to the left, girls to the right, and difficult to see the other. Cody joined the line of boys, each one checking off their names on the pads being held by the counselors. Cody sat down next to Hugo.

“Really?” Hugo retorted, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Rick, the slender and tall blond haired man stood up in the middle of the stage.

“Hello campers,” Rick said, “I’m Rick Dimple, your new camp director, assigned here in response to certain incidents. Rest assured, my priority is you, but I also have to place your safety and your spirituality above your pleasure. Some of the new policies may seem a bit brazen, however, I also want this camp to be open next summer. Yes, that is in jeopardy and I’m using every measure to assure your parents that Beacon of the Light is a wonderful place to entrust their kids. Now, how many of you have been here all summer?”

About half, including Cody and Hugo, raised their hands.

“Do any of you wish to have this camp closed?” Rick asked, “If so, keep your hand up.”

All the hands went down.

“The rest of you are new,” Rick said, “You can talk to the others about the fun and healthy activities that can be had here. One new policy, effective today, is that no camper is to be alone. That means you should always be in sight of at least one other camper, of your own sex. And only enter the woods if you’re properly escorted. We’ve lost campers that way—the paperwork is horrendous.”

Some snickers came around.

“Think the paperwork’s bad?” Cody stammered.

“Shh!” Hugo said to Cody.

* * *

Captain Alexis Sefton parked her police cruiser in front of the green house on Briarwood Avenue. She grabbed the vase of white flowers from the passenger seat, and walked up the path of stones, up the concrete steps, to the front door. She knocked.

“Hi Captain,” said a younger girl of fourteen years, with long brown hair freely reaching down her back, in a yellow T–shirt and shorts.

“Hello Nessa,” Alexis said, “Is your Dad around?”

“Upstairs,” Nessa said, “He’s not well.”

Alexis gave the vase to Nessa, who placed them next to a collection of Daffodils. Alexis knew the master bedroom was on the main floor, not upstairs, however, she understood. Alexis went through the living room, turned right and right; her boots echoed on the thin and loose carpet of the stairs, carpet that Lovell would not replace nor fix.

She turned right at the top of the steps into the green bedroom with its lean–to style of a sloped ceiling. Lovell was sitting on the floor, his athletic training shirt damp, only several tears loitered on the face, but otherwise ran out. On the screen, a replay of the Golden Claw ceremony, all four boys in their green and silver uniforms getting the badge pinned to them. Ifor’s bed unmade, blankets shoved into the nook with the wall, sheets on the floor with a collection of dirty clothes. On the desk was the pile of questionable books she had uncovered during her search for Ifor’s backpack two weeks earlier.

“I grieve too,” Alexis said, “Every Wild Trekker was my own too. Ifor has a place in my heart that will never be filled.”

Lovell shook his head.

“You’re not alone,” Alexis said, “I’d shoulder your burden, if I could.”

Lovell sighed, remained quiet.

Alexis was unsure what to say that wouldn’t spill the reports that she had read. She had not divulged those books to…to them, but they still knew Ifor had snatched those books from the burn pile. A first aid book that failed to mention the spiritual element and showed a boy helping another boy. A science book, with its red mark, that argued the earth being billions of years old, one that countered the biblical truth. Her mind finally settled on her words.

“If you want, I can help with planning,” Alexis said, “Maybe I could get—Donald has an excellent maid service. Would a week or two help you out?”

Lovell’s eyes drifted and stayed on her.

“It’s too late for Ifor, but I can help you,” Alexis said, “Even if it’s the little stuff.”

“Thank you for the attempt,” Lovell said.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” Alexis said, “If you need anything, let me know.”

Lovell remained sitting there, in the middle of Ifor’s bedroom, as Alexis left it. She went down the stairs. She gave Nessa a tight hug.

“Wish it went better,” Alexis said.

“It was Ifor, not like it was a big deal,” Nessa said.

“You’ll grieve, you’ll grieve,” Alexis assured her.

Alexis left the house and sat in her police cruiser. She couldn’t bring herself to turn the key, her mind on that innocent boy. She couldn’t tell Lovell the reports that made this the better outcome, that Ifor died as he loved doing, an honor that few were bestowed.

* * *

“Here?” Ifor asked as they came to the old shelter with a picnic table, his hard erection jutted out from his fluffy brown pubic hair.

“Has a roof,” Risley said.

“Bit hard on the ground,” Grant said as he kicked some gravel on the dirt.

“I’ll lay on top,” Ifor said.

“Of course you will,” Risley said as he aimed his penis.

Ifor felt it, the warm liquid splash against his right leg. Grant laughed.

“Not funny,” Ifor said.

“You like it,” Risley said.

“Suck my dick,” Ifor said.

“Do it,” Grant said to Risley.

“What?” Risley stammered.

“Figure that’s justice,” Grant said, “Besides, it’s not like we’ve got company who’ll do it for us.”

“It’s alright,” Ifor said.

“He peed on you,” Grant said, “He won, so he gets to make up.”

Ifor dropped his backpack to the ground, sat on the edge of the picnic table. Risley knelt on the bench, leaned over, and teased Ifor’s foreskin.

“Guess I’m man enough to handle this,” Risley said.

“I’ll suck on you, if that’d help,” Grant said to Risley.

“We’re not gay,” Risley said.

“We’re brothers,” Ifor said, “Close enough?”

“Yeah,” Grant replied.

Risley brought Ifor’s stiffness into the mouth. Ifor felt the hot breath, the tongue that began to lick, work his dick.

“Besides, gotta keep it clean,” Grant said, “Right?

Grant turned, shook his own balls toward Ifor, with the wild scruffy pubic hair above, before he bent over the backpack.

“Thank you,” Ifor said to Risley.

Risley kept going, worked as he’s become accustomed to, the foreskin, the glans. Risley’s right fingers reached beneath, found Ifor’s anus, and pushed inward. Risley pulled back as Ifor felt the quench. Risley and Grant watched Ifor’s stiff cock launch its first volley of off–white semen. More pulsations and more shots as the puddles formed on the bench beneath Ifor. Grant clapped his hands.

“You would,” Risley said to Grant.

“It’s the Ifor show,” Grant said, “Rude not to.”

Risley gave a light clap.

“Dinner?” Ifor asked.

“Tofu,” Grant said as he pulled the packet out of his backpack, “Seems Maev left us a treat.” Grant frowned.

“Eat it first,” Ifor said, “Not worth carrying, is it?”

“Next stream, a fish banquet,” Risley said.

Ifor stood as Grant pulled the sleeping bag out. Grant glanced back into his backpack.

“What the—?” Grant stammered as he pulled out a lacy yellow brassiere.

Risley and Ifor laughed.

“They got us!” Ifor said as he reached into his backpack, pulled out a pair of panties.

“How thoughtful of them,” Risley said, “You’ve now got something to wear!”

“How about you?” Grant asked.

Risley pulled out pink bra from his backpack. Ifor found a light green bra beneath his.

“And…” Grant held up the Penis Handbook with light blue panties sandwiched between the pages.

They all laughed.

“Okay, so we do have options when we get to civilization,” Ifor said, “Not sure which one is better.”

More laughter.

* * *

“You didn’t think to give them any of the vibrators?” Maev asked.

“They had weeks and hundreds of miles,” Dorcia said, “Didn’t seem fair to burden them down with all that useless weight.”

“This backpack—I’ve got to stop,” Maev said as she put it down.

“I wonder….” Dorcia said as she opened it.

Her hand slid along the light fabric, felt the large lump. Her other hand went down, pulled on it.

“You’re—” Maev started.

“Should feel a lot lighter now,” Dorcia said as she removed the large stone, a good ten pounds from the backpack, dropped it to the ground. “Boys!”

“They—I still make the exception for them,” Maev said.

“Best hike ever,” Dorcia said, “Guess the bird survey will have to wait for another time.”

“Plenty of birds,” Maev replied, “Plenty of birds.”

Dorcia squatted, peed onto the trail, and understood how much the boys influenced her, unconcerned that anybody could come around the corner, though that was unlikely. She stood, their bare buttocks flexed as they walked, hiked back toward civilization.


	27. Undead

“Word is, those remains went to Portland’s medical examiner’s office.”

“They’ll figure out the truth!” Irwin said.

“I know. Which means we need the proper ones as we apologize for the mixup.”

“We simply lost them after you ordered me to back off,” Irwin said.

“Do not lay the blame on me when I told you to keep an eye on them. Still, we have methods.”

“Understood,” Irwin said, “The hunt is back on.”

Irwin turned the switch, every light on the instrument panel went out as he was flying, his eyes adjusted to the remaining moonlight of the night. Heavy breathing behind him from the six hounds riding along were synchronized with the dull hum of the engine. He knew they had been distracted but now he needed to find those boys again, preferably dead. Irwin brought the plane gently to a landing on the familiar meadow, and cut the engine.

Irwin opened the door, pulled on the leash, and brought out one of the German Shepherds. Fresh Nitrile glove on his hand, Irwin took a piece of cloth out of a bag, held it to the nose.

“Get em boy!” Irwin shouted as he unlatched the leash from the collar around the neck.

Three bags, three pieces of cloth, and Irwin methodically exposed and released each dog, two per scent. Irwin watched as the six dogs acted confused before they reached a scent, and the dogs headed toward the north east. Irwin remembered this was the general direction that he had last seen those three disgusting naked teenage boys. Irwin waited until the last of the German Shepherds entered the bush, all certain that Irwin himself would be at the end of the long trail.

Irwin climbed back into his plane, started up the engine. He revved up and turned the plane around, it soared back into the air. He turned the lights to his instrument panel back on, to their lowest setting. On the display, all six tracking collars moved.

* * *

Sunday, August 2nd

“You’re peeing,” Ifor said to Risley.

“So?” Risley replied as he stood there, the gold drizzling.

While Risley’s eyes noticed Ifor’s hard erection, his attention, like Grant’s, was directed to the rack a couple dozen yards away. It’s antlers were six feet wide with a bunch of points as the moose laid in the tall grass, munching a bit, whose own eyes kept their focus upon the three pink human teenage boys.

“Wish I had a camera,” Risley said.

“Wish I had my phone—at least—” Grant started.

Risley and Ifor turned their eyes, stared for a moment at Grant.

“What?!” Grant said, “Alright, okay, okay, no camera,” Grant said.

“It’s beautiful,” Ifor said as he joined in watching the moose.

“Did anybody read up on the best way to part ways with one?” Risley said, “Given its size, I doubt we want to tangle—”

Teeth clicking, the moose’s eyes were on the three.

“Back away,” Ifor said, “With me.”

Ifor backed up, along with Risley and Grant. After a dozen yards, the moose returned to its grazing.

“He seems a bit more relaxed,” Risley said, following Grant and Ifor, “We’re no match for him.”

“Got that right,” Ifor said, “Heard they can push trees over.”

“Yikes!” Grant said.

They turned, continued along the trail through the meadow, away from the moose.

“Cody will be jealous,” Risley said, “Though no pictures.”

“He’s having fun singing hymns or something,” Grant said.

“True,” Risley said.

Risley caught the glint of brown from Ifor’s butt, as a liquid brown squirted out, and Risley glanced away fast. Risley’s feet, however, stepped to either side of the new brown on the trail.

“Are you sure you cooked that fish all the way?” Ifor asked.

“What makes you ask?” Grant replied.

“Nothing,” Ifor said.

They kept walking.

* * *

Captain Alexis Sefton read Detective Donald Faucher’s report, the one suggesting a possible mixup with janitorial services, when the message came through, the one she was anticipating. She locked her tablet, stood, and left her office. She went down to the lobby.

“Excuse me Captain!” came the holler from a middle–aged blonde haired lady.

“The front desk—” Captain Sefton started, pointed.

“Not the run around again!” the lady said, “My son’s missing since June! I spoke to some detective Fauc—nevermind the name.”

“He’s working on it,” Captain Sefton said, “He keeps things quiet until he’s confident he has any news, but rest assured, he’s working the case. You’re not forgotten, far from it—trust me, I understand the desire for answers. Please leave messages with the front desk and he’ll get them. Now, excuse me, I have urgent police business to attend to.”

Captain Sefton left the lobby, crossed over into the garage, and got into her cruiser. She turned off the auto–navigator, she knew her way. A short way, and she parked in the garage of the medical examiner’s, and entered. Down into the basement, where the strong stench of Cuban cigars met her nose.

“Captain,” Spencer said as he waited outside the hollow metal door.

They entered the chilled morgue, with its assortment of metal tables, three of which had the body bags. An old man, nearing his retirement, had a lit cigar in his mouth. A large screen above the tables had Detective Donald Faucher on it, in a dress shirt with a tie.

“Dr. Ivan Jadrell, did you tamper with the detectors, again?” Captain Alexis Sefton asked.

“It’s not like the dead mind,” Dr. Jadrell said, “And Cuban makes for the best deodorizer.”

“You had something?” the Captain asked.

“You’ll find this curious too,” Dr. Jadrell said, “I analyzed tooth fragments with their known records—none match your three. Neither do the genetic scans.”

“Figures,” Donald said.

“You knew?” Spencer said, “We brought them back, but if these aren’t the boys—who are these?”

Dr. Jadrell tapped on his tablet, checked some more scans.

“Unidentified but they are sons to somebody and are human remains that should be handled appropriately, “ Donald said, “I trust us better than those up here in Alaska. Now, I’ve been doing a lot of footwork and I suspect a conspiracy, maybe even a janitorial service. Our boys unwittingly got themselves mixed up in it, one set of victims among many. Those remains belong to another set of victims.”

“Explain,” Captain Sefton said.

“From what I could gather, I wasn’t the first to show up asking questions about missing hikers,” Donald said, “It’s common for people to fly into the backcountry for hiking, and most return, some do not. As these are for weeks if not months being out of signal, family will show up around October or November and ask questions about the missing hikers.”

“Risks in any outdoor adventure,” Alexis said, “Plenty in the wilderness.”

“Young and old come up here,” Donald said, “Seems if you’re between eighteen into your early twenties, the odds are quickly out of your favor.”

“Remember your focus is the boys,” Captain Sefton said.

“Ivan?” Donald asked.

“Match,” Dr. Jadrell said.

“One of those is the son of the lady who’s been hanging out in the police headquarters,” Donald said, “This makes those remains our jurisdiction.”

“Wrong set,” Spencer said, “Lovell’s not going to take this well.”

“Delay that thought,” Donald said.

“What is your current situation?” Captain Sefton asked.

“At this point, it’s safe to assume that Cody Vankleeck’s been truthful all along,” Donald said, “Our three boys decided to skip camp and go for a hike—it’s pleasant enough, and how many hundred mile hikes have they gone on?”

“More than a few,” Spencer said.

“Hired a pilot, in cash, and fell into the trap,” Donald said, “Maybe the pilot thought it janitorial, fired his weapon but did not strike, so the boys may indeed be alive.”

“Alive?” Spencer asked.

“But in danger,” Donald said, “Whether it was Lovell’s theatrical searching, out of state police showing up, throwing resources like a shiny new helicopter, asking in July instead of fall, or implicating that camp—we unnerved them. They voided their original plan and persuaded us to return to Portland with a set of remains that fit the general description of the boys. If those boys are still alive, they’re loose ends, so to speak. To test this hypothesis, I need bloodhounds—”

A motion, Spencer edging toward the door.

“Hold it!” Captain Sefton snapped at Spencer, before she turned back to the monitor. “Officially, they’re now dead, so I need more than conjecture and speculation.”

“Satellite reconnaissance,” Donald said, “Their backpacks are still missing, not at their houses, not at the camp, nor were they in the field. If wounded or dead, we’d have their remains—the conspirators would have seen to that. No, I’m wagering they ran—after all, they were equipped to spend time in the wilderness. If they haven’t been killed, I’ll stake out Ted Stevens at the end of the month.”

“They’d make a call,” Spencer said.

“Only if they thought they’d be missed, besides, we recovered their phones, remember?” Donald said, “No, they’re toughing it out. I’ve already convinced the reporters to canvas any hikers coming out of the woods for any information, maybe one of them have seen the boys.”

“First,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “Satellite reconnaissance requires a formal request, authorized by the Russian embassy. I’ll need an area—more specific than all of Alaska. Second, I need some evidence first.”

“Gotta admit it’s a reasonable theory,” Spencer said, “I’ll get Lovell—”

“NO!” Donald said, “Do NOT tell him. It may be a false hope and I’m not taking him through that wringer, again. If we find remains, quietly switch them out, otherwise, let him meet his son at the airport.”

“Do you have a suspect?” Alexis asked.

“Yes—several,” Donald said, “But I think Spencer can figure it out too. Based on the time that Alyce Gillespie signed into that camp, the unsigned message to us was sent before the boys’ plot was revealed. Therefore, that person already knew what she’d find, already knew the boys weren’t at the camp, already knew the boys were in the wilderness.”

“Is it—him?” Spencer asked.

“Think you’ve got it,” Donald said, “He’d have the connections to pull it off, including a pilot. Why they volunteer to vanish people, I’m not sure, but I doubt we’d like the answer. However, my focus is on finding our boys, after which, I intend to dig deeper.” He paused for a moment, before addressing the Captain. “And you’ll need to justify to Budget why we flew our shiny new helicopter to Alaska.”

“Before you get too comfortable,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “Entire battalions have been known to vanish in Budget, so you need evidence.”

“Can you see to checking all passengers that flew into Ted Stevens around late May to early July?” Donald said, “Need a better search algorithm?”

“What are you after?” asked the Captain.

“Names?” Donald said, “You’ve got three sets of remains, one of whom you know, the other two you don’t. So, they were obviously less fortunate. Heck, they could’ve been from that area you examined before finding the spot for our boys—multiple killing fields.”

“You have your directions,” Captain Sefton said, “Keep me posted.”

“Roger,” Donald said. His face vanished.

“Thank you,” Captain Sefton said to Dr. Jadrell, “Do try to cut back on the cigars.”

Spencer and Captain Sefton left the morgue.

“It’s a roller coaster,” Spencer said, on the stairs, “I hope his hunch is right—I’d love to see Ifor again.”

“Donald always aims to bet a thousand,” Alexis said, “It’ll be a bit until I can get that request submitted.”

They left the building, entered the garage.

“I bought tickets for tonight’s Beavers game,” Spencer said, “After all this, a good baseball game with my son seemed like the right thing.”

“Do it,” Captain Sefton said.

Spencer got into his Jaguar, while the Captain got into her cruiser and left.

…

Captain Sefton returned to the headquarters, took the elevator up to the fourth floor, to her office. It was already occupied, hand to her side arm, and she entered.

“Captain,” said the man in a tall trench coat, sunglasses darkening his eyes out.

“Sorry but I’ve got pressing business—” Alexis started as she sat down behind her desk.

“Coincidentally, so do I, and I believe they are the one and the same,” the man said as he handed her a business card and flipped open a badge, “Behar Baris, Inquisitor Undersecretary for the Pacific Northwest region, Department of Homeland Morality.”

“You need to speak with the commissioner,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, desiring the separation from what she felt was coming next.

“Already have and we have…an understanding,” Baris said, “Can I rely on your assistance?”

“Depends on the proposition,” the Captain said, “Within reason, you can have it.”

Baris held the framed picture of Cody, Ifor, Risley, and Grant holding their Golden Claw awards.

“Four at once, pretty rare,” Baris said as he put the frame back down, “As you unburied it once they were deemed missing, I take it you care about them.”

“Goes without saying for any dedicated leader,” Captain Sefton replied.

“You know the Police Bureau’s policy concerning runaways,” Baris said.

“They’re considered dead,” Alexis said.

“Then you can recall Detective Donald Faucher,” Baris said, “He’s…trifling with matters of my department.”

“You’ve got my attention,” the Captain said.

“I think we can come to an arrangement, Captain,” Baris said, “You want those boys back, safe and sound. I need things…left intact. I could likely deliver, can you?”

“I need specifics,” Alexis said.

“Nice try,” Baris said, “Do not trifle.”

“Bullets were shot at those boys which means Faucher is on a murder investigation,” Alexis said, “So unless you’re sanctioning murder—”

“And you shall chase your enemies, and they shall fall before you by the sword, Leviticus 26:7,” 1 Baris said, “Those in your basement were enemies. Where are your allegiances?”

Alexis understood, Donald’s onto the truth. She stood, let her taller frame loom over Baris.

“I am answerable to every citizen of Portland, through the mayor to the commissioner to me,” Alexis said, “I suggest you deliver those boys, alive, before I have you booked as an accessory to murder—the Lord does not take kindly to those eagerly breaking the sixth commandment. Understood?”

“Interference in the affairs of the Department of Homeland Morality or its affiliates is not taken lightly,” Baris said, “I examined their files and your boys are listed as endangered—this little stunt of theirs will downgrade their status. If it goes on too long, like hoof and mouth, one must cull the herd. So, if you value their lives, see to improving their spirituality, because I’m answerable to God, and God alone!”

Baris turned around, left.

Alexis glanced at the other frame, a red haired teenage girl smiling among flowers, enough flowers to shield what Alexis remembered from that day, Daisy being sky clad in the sunshine, half a lifetime ago. Needed medicine after any visit from that department, including one that started to confirm her suspicions about the three boys.

* * *

“Hurry,” Ifor said, back against a tree, eyes closed in the fading light of the evening.

“You know the golden rule,” Grant said.

Risley understood, he was the one kneeling in front of Ifor, he was the one inches away from Ifor with a soft penis, this wasn’t the game the girls played, it was merely him in front of his friend. Curls in the fluffy pubic hair, Risley knew them, ones that combing occasionally removed.

“Yeah,” Risley said.

“Chickening?” Ifor asked.

“We’ll see,” Grant said.

Smooth, with the ridge of the glans beneath the foreskin, before it came to a near chisel tip, only the correct angle would reveal the slit, above the round scrotum. Mole to the center fo the left side, the air cool enough to hold it tight. Risley spent another moment, studying this.

“Where are those girls when you need them?” Risley asked.

“Want to be blown?” Grant asked.

Risley understood, he needed to swallow his pride. Risley’s fingers lifted the flesh, teased the foreskin to retract. Pink, a bit of a droplet on the slit, the foreskin bunched behind the shoulder of the glans, the penis greeted Risley. Risley lifted it a bit more, leaned forward, and brought the glans to rest on his tongue; it began to move forward, engorging itself.

“Different, huh?” Grant asked Risley.

“Shh!” Ifor said.

Risley still felt awkward, his friend’s stiffening penis clear he was getting off on Risley, sharing that detail, as the firming flesh began to compete with the tongue for space between the teeth.

“Practice,” Grant said, “You’re doing me tomorrow.”

Risley nearly choked, forced his mouth to remain open, aware his friend’s very sensitive body part within. Risley’s chin bumped against the testicles, his nose into Ifor’s pubic hair, as the whole of the erection was inside. The words of the girls came back, this end of the job wasn’t glamorous or pretty, but it was part of the bargain if you loved your friends, and he did love Ifor enough to suck on the dick. Risley’s tongue worked around the shaft, his fingers teased the testicles, before he felt the fast pump.

“Ahh…” Ifor sighed.

Surge of salty meat flavor, and Risley pulled back. Ifor’s slit kept pumping off–white. Risley spat as he stood.

“Was that bad?” Grant asked as he clapped Risley’s shoulder.

“Not my first choice,” Risley said.

“Thank you,” Ifor said.

“Need a bath?” Grant asked as he waved his soft circumcised penis toward Risley. A yellow jet powered out as Grant peed.

“No thanks!” Risley snapped.

Ifor laughed.

“Yeah, drink it yourself,” Risley said to Grant.

“Bit tough,” Grant replied.

Risley laid down on the sleeping bag, laid on his right side. Ifor climbed in front of Risley, leaned with his back against Risley’s chest. Risley’s left hand reached over, held Ifor’s balls. Risley held on.

“Thanks…” Ifor said before he fell to sleep.

Risley understood, they had started rotating the duty, the one of honor. Equitable, they had bared themselves weeks earlier, exploring their sexuality together was part of the adventure. Grant climbed in on the other side, sandwiched Ifor between them.

“Night,” Grant said.

Risley was uncertain if he heard faint howling in the distance, but he fell to sleep.

* * *

1 _The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version_ , Second Edition, Thomas Nelson Inc, 1971.  



	28. Reporting

It was dark and raining six minutes before midnight when Behar Baris walked up to the Acts 1:8 Church, slipped an envelope in through the mail slot, and left.

* * *

Monday, August 3rd

Cody scrambled out of his bed when the second set of chimes went off. After Marcia, he was slightly less concerned about being naked with his butt on his heels as he checked his suitcase and his footlocker.

“Underwear!” Cody said, “You didn’t by chance borrow mine?”

“No,” Hugo said.

Cody glanced around at the other four pairs of eyes, with their shakes and groans, in the bigger yet smaller cabin.

“You should always have a pair on you,” Hugo said.

“I know that—but they never stay on,” Cody said, “Exorcisms don’t seem to help either.”

Cody checked again.

“Can I borrow a pair?” Cody asked.

Hugo glanced at the other four faces.

“Doubt it,” Hugo said, “Borrowing underwear is one step toward sodomy. I think the trading post sells it.”

“That’s on the other side of the dining hall,” Cody remarked.

“May need to go without,” Hugo said, “We won’t tell anybody.”

Heads nodded.

“It’s only for the morning,” said the boy, Aden, with the dark skin, “Buy it at lunch, come back here, or slip into the latrine.”

“Rather not spend time in the latrine,” Cody said, “May be empty, but still a latrine.”

Cody pulled his blue jeans on, felt the metal of his zipper bite a bit into his dick.

“Ow,” Cody muttered.

A second pull and the zipper cleared. Cody put on his shirt, socks, and shoes; joined Hugo and Aden in leaving the cabin.

“At least you’re not traveling alone,” Hugo said.

“Figured there’s security in having a killer in the cabin,” Aden said, “Don’t get us.”

“Not funny,” Cody stated.

They went down the hill toward the parade ground. Murmuring greeted Cody’s ears as they approached the flagpole. At the top, white, white garments bunched together, garments that seemed familiar to Cody. Boys and girls snickered from either side of the partition wall.

“Hey,” Hugo asked, “Is that your underwear?”

“Wha—what?” Cody stammered.

“Relax, don’t claim it,” Aden said, “Unless you did something stupid, like write your name on them.”

“Think I’ll skip—” Cody started as he turned around.

“They’re taking attendance!” Hugo said as he and Aden restrained Cody, “Screw up and the whole cabin suffers!”

Cody trembled as the counselors walked over to the flag pole, lowered the white down. Rick Dimple read one of the waist bands.

“VANKLEECK!” Rick yelled, “VANKLEECK!”

Cody felt the push from Hugo and Aden; walked forward, walked to the man whose glare was upon him.

“Are these yours?” Rick demanded.

Cody studied those eyes, knew it to be correct.

“Yes, Sir,” Cody said.

Cody grabbed the bundle while getting a chorus of jeers and hollers from the crowd of campers.

“And a week of kitchen duty,” Rick said.

Some applause came from the crowd.

“You either strung them up yourself or left them unsecured,” Rick said, “That goes for EVERYBODY! Discipline has been too lax, and you’re not fooling the Lord with that!”

Cody returned to Hugo and Aden.

“That’s mean,” Hugo muttered.

“He’s right,” Cody said.

* * *

A honk, two honks, Lovell woke up on Ifor’s bedroom floor.

“Dad!” came the plea, “Mom’s crying!”

Lovell glanced at her long flowing hair, Nessa in the door.

“I’ll go downstairs,” Lovell said, knew he had to push forward, for Nessa, for Yolanda.

“Outside,” Nessa said.

Lovell’s bare feet stepped on a misplaced granola bar as he made it to the window of Ifor’s bedroom overlooking the street below. On the other side were a handful of people, some sitting in lawn chairs, some standing, others sitting on the grass, but all holding up signs.

“God’s ANGRY—Too late to PRAY!”

“Thank GOD for your DEAD BOYS!”

“What the—?!” Lovell dashed out the door, rushed down the stairs.

“Hold it!” Yolanda said in the living room.

“I’ve got a dead son and—” Lovell started, pointed at the sign.

“Fags ARE Satan!”

“So do I,” Yolanda said, as she wiped away tear, “I’m not letting you flush your career—”

“It’s been all for you, him, US!” Lovell said, “How can I—?”

“QUEER DOWN! PRAISE THE LORD!” shouted one of the people, through his megaphone.

“Now this is ridiculous—I’m calling this in,” Yolanda said as she dialed her phone.

“Found Jesus? Your son DIDN’T!” shouted a woman, “He’s been DAMNED!”

Minutes later, Lovell watched Spencer pulled up in his Jaguar, Malcolm with him. They both shook their heads as they came up to the front door. Spencer let himself in; Malcolm stood outside.

“That’s not right, Spencer said, “We’ll—”

“STOP!” Malcolm shouted.

“Mr. Ulverston?” came the new voice as a cameraman with a man dressed in a business suit entered the living room.

“Dom Chandler, KOPTV morning news,” the man said, “How does it feel to squander millions on a search for some dead Satan worshipers—?”

“Scram,” Lovell said.

“Out—” Spencer said. Malcolm now next to him. “And we mean it.”

“As a reporter—” Chandler said, “I’m obligated to report on the waste and abuse of my tax money—”

“The property owner has requested that you leave his property,” Spencer said, “Do so, now.”

“Want him to shoot you as a burglar?” Malcolm asked.

“I smell cover up,” Chandler said as he retreated to the curb, along with his cameraman.

Captain Sefton pulled up with her police cruiser.

“Captain,” Chandler said as he pushed a microphone in front of Alexis, “Mind if we asked a few—”

“STOP!” Alexis said before she came up to the door, which she closed as she entered.

“I heard the Gillespies and Barnets are similarly affected,” Alexis said.

“Do you have an official noise meter?” Spencer asked, “We can at least—”

“You’ll have it inside an hour,” Alexis said, “Along with some parking enforcement.”

Alexis paused as her phone vibrated, flashed the message “Believe me?”

“What?” Lovell asked her.

“Down with Satan Worship!” chanted the crowd.

“A man loses his son and they’re cheering?” Malcolm asked.

“It’s sickening,” Alexis said, “It’s all sickening. Excuse me.”

Alexis left the house.

* * *

Maev came to a halt as she checked her map, a bit past noon. Dorcia glanced at her, the nipples were firm, before the map.

“As I thought,” Maev said, “We need to get dressed.”

“Another five miles—” Dorcia said.

“We’re here—there’s the parking lot,” Maev said, “It’s under a mile.”

“Jump me there,” Dorcia said, the fantasy of it put a smile back to her face, “It’s not like those places have people, we can get away with it.

“Nice thought, maybe use the lady’s room,” Maev said, “But what if one of those surveillance cameras worked?”

Dorcia sighed, squatted, for one last guilt–free shot as she pulled her folds apart. Her golden stream, her partial shower, left a wide line across the dirt trail.

“It’ll be nice to see them again,” Dorcia said, “Where’s Portland?” Dorcia rose, pulled out a bit of wrinkled clothing. “Need to get my underwear back from them.”

They both snickered.

“Not sure, though,” Maev said as she searched her own backpack. “Ask your grandfather when you get the next ticket.”

“That’d take a bit,” Dorcia said, as she put on a pair of red panties, “One cover–up was expensive enough.”

“Two plane tickets and food,” Maev said, “Sounds cheap.”

“Dunno what Grampa sold…likely means we still don’t have a working air conditioner,” Dorcia said, “Doubt that’s been fixed. Suppose we could hitchhike—does the airline let us rebook from Portland?”

“Have his credit card on you?” Maev asked.

“No,” Dorcia said.

“Go home first,” Maev said, “Maybe somebody on your chat could help us out, help us figure out how to get to Portland?”

“You’re interested in going?” Dorcia said, now in her light blue shorts and a matching shirt, “What was it with you and Ifor?”

“Nothing—though he’s got my pocket knife,” Maev said, “I’m also curious to see how much of the boys was from being naked or not.”

“They’ll let you make a very detailed comparison,” Dorcia said as she pulled out her phone.

They both laughed and started to walk, both dressed.

“Signal?” Maev asked.

“Oddly, yes,” Dorcia said as she tapped, “Uncle Filip is already on his way.”

“Good,” Maev said.

Dorcia put her phone into her pocket, began to scratch at the itching.

“Odd—constrictive,” Dorcia said as she tugged at her shirt.

“They had weeks of hiking left,” Maev said, “So, trip’s at the end of the month and hitchhiking now would be to empty beds.”

“Of course, of course,” Dorcia said, “Too far away by now, else I’d go back and tell Grampa to try again to get me home.”

“Likely haven’t bathed since we left them,” Maev said, “Doubt they managed before we found them.”

“Good way to keep critters away, natural repellent,” Dorcia said, “Though—” she sniffed the air “—kinda miss it.”

“You would,” Maev said.

They heard a generator running as they approached the trailhead.

“I owe you one,” Dorcia said.

“Good thing they didn’t go up this trail,” Maev said.

Maev and Dorcia rounded the corner, through the trees and the stone fence, to two vans in the parking lot. One with KAGTV on the side, the other KFAIR. A man dressed in smart business attire, next to a lady in a flowery dress, stood in front of two men with cameras on their shoulders.

“Admit it Lane,” the lady said to the man, “We’ve been had, I don’t see any goats or satanists.”

“They could show up—” the man, Lane started.

“I’m making the best of this,” the lady said, her eyes on Dorcia and Maev standing not too far away.

The lady closed the short distance, fast on Dorcia and Maev, as the camera focused on them.

“Some prank of my Uncle’s?” Dorcia said, “He’d be the type to call you up with a tall story.”

“Maybe,” the lady said, “I’m Kadence Schulur, Anchorage Gospel Television and was wondering if you saw these three boys?”

The lady handed over the flyer, of Risley, Ifor, Grant, and Cody in their Wild Trekkers uniforms in one corner, with Risley, Ifor, and Grant dotted out to a bigger three pictures using their school portraits. Dorcia tried to focus on the lady’s pearl necklace, restrain her smile as the memories of the boys flooded her mind.

“Camera!” the lady shouted, though the cameraman was already focused and close.

“How long have you been out there?” asked Lane as he came over.

“This is _my_ story,” Kadence said.

“Um…about three weeks, I think,” Dorcia said.

“Then they couldn’t have seen them,” Lane said to Kadence.

“What have they done?” Dorcia asked.

“Why?” Maev inquired.

“Died in the wilderness over a month ago—” Kadence started.

“Seemed quite healthy to me,” Dorcia said, remembering the three different hard erections that she had allowed to push into her, to get off on her.

“When was this?” Kadence asked.

“Several days ago,” Dorcia replied, she wanted to keep talking about them.

“You must be mistaken,” Lane said, “Their remains were discovered—”

“Are we talking about the same Ifor Ulverston, Risley Gillespie, and Grant Barnet?” Dorcia asked, as she flashed the flyer back to them, “These are them and we had to leave them—when was it Maev?”

“July thirty first,” Maev said.

“We started hiking on the fifteenth,” Dorcia said, “We came across these three very cute boys. So unless something has happened—”

* * *

Spencer ran into the house, where Lovell stared at the vase of white flowers. Spencer turned on the screen, the wall came to life.

“As mentioned,” Kadence said, “We have an update on missing campers from Beacon of the Light. As a courtesy, we’ve been asking every hiker we come across the same question—and I’ll let these ladies speak for themselves.”

Dorcia’s face came to the screen.

“Yes, we saw those cute fellows,” Dorcia said, “We even have plans to see them again. We came across them two weeks ago, spent a bit of time together, doing some day hikes, and left them four days ago. Last we knew, Risley, Ifor, and Grant were heading north from where we left.”

“Where was that?” asked Lane.

“Do you have that map?” Dorcia asked the blonde haired Maev.

Dorcia showed the map, marking where the old ranger station was.

“So, why all the fuss?” Dorcia asked.

“They were reported missing from their camp—” Kadence started.

“Oh, that?” Dorcia said, “Said they went for a hike instead of some boring—Beacon of the Light, was it?”

“Yes,” Lane said, “I guess that’s a bit of relief for them—”

“Hey, I’d love to stay and chat about them,” Dorcia said, “But Uncle Filip’s arrived to pick us up.”

“Thank you,” Kadence said.

The camera panned over to Dorcia and Maev loading their gear into a station wagon, before it returned to Kadence.

“This is Kadence Schulur of Anchorage Gospel Television reporting a very wonderful bit of news,” Kadence said, “Even after their remains were supposedly discovered, these three boys were spotted alive not too long ago, and we wish them well in being reunited with their families.”

“It’s wonderful!” Spencer said.

“He’s not here,” Lovell said.

“But alive,” Spencer said, “We can work with that.”

“I’ll come,” Lovell said.

“Can’t,” Spencer said, “Unless you wish to disobey the Captain.”

“I’m his father!” Lovell protested.

“Not letting you ruin your career and Ifor’s,” Spencer said, “Donald is still in Anchorage, trust him.”

“Alright,” Lovell said, “Assuming he makes it back—” he let out a short laugh. “I’ll ground Ifor for life as he’s turning my hair gray.”

Spencer gave a pat to Lovell’s back.

“I’ll fire up the grill,” Spencer said.

“You do that,” Lovell said.

“Ifor’s not dead?” Nessa asked.

“That’s the belief,” Spencer said, “No promises.”

* * *

Ifor heard a faint howl in the far, far, distance as the fish fried on the pan. Grant picked blueberries while Risley picked huckleberries nearby. Ifor wasn’t certain why, the howl made him edgy.

“Go ahead with it,” Ifor said.

“Looks a bit…under,” Grant said.

“Eat,” Ifor said, handing the spork over.

Risley took it, ate into the trout.

“Not quite—palatable,” Risley said.

Ifor worked into a handful of the huckleberries while Risley worked on his third of the fish. They kept standing there.

“You hear it too?” Grant asked.

“Yeah,” Ifor said.

“Only reason to be eating undercooked fish for lunch,” Risley said as he handed it over to Grant.

“What do we have?” Grant asked before wolfed his portion down.

“Two pocket knives and some sharpened sticks,” Risley said, “Best not to be here should they come this way.”

Ifor ate the last of the fish. They dumped the rest of the berries as Grant squatted over the small pot of hot water. More howling, bit louder. Ifor glanced at the side of Grant’s buttocks, the top of the left above the curve of the right, the pink of the partially stiff circumcised dick dangled below the leg, and Grant’s pectoral muscles, when another howl came.

“They’re getting closer?” Ifor asked.

“Dunno,” Grant said.

Ifor and Grant glanced at Risley, feet planted as he squatted off the three foot high trunk. Brown liquid dropped from Risley’s butt.

“Yep, the fish,” Risley said.

“Hope its nothing serious,” Grant said, “Nice butts is one thing—”

“Not like we’ve got much of a choice about things,” Ifor said.

“QUIET!” Grant shouted.

Howls came again, repeatedly, and eerily close. Risley hoisted his backpack onto his back, he grabbed Grant’s. Ifor hoisted his onto his back. Grant held his arms out as Risley lifted the third backpack, with the pan still in his hand. Risley dumped the pot with water, tied it to one of the strings on Grant’s backpack, while Grant tied the pan to one of the strings on Ifor’s backpack.

“And…” Risley muttered.

Scampering of two dozen paws, the six German shepherds came at them, teeth bared.

* * *

Captain Sefton gave a brief clap after she muted the screen on her wall in her office.

“That is—good news,” said Behar Baris as he entered, “Isn’t it, Captain?”

“It means I have two corpses over at medical that still need proper identification,” Captain Sefton said, “It’s still a murder investigation.”

“You can add three more bodies or agree to my terms,” Baris said, “What will it be Captain?”


	29. Hounds

Ifor’s tiny nipples moved as Ifor remembered to breath; six large hounds focused on the three boys. His back pushed against the others, buttocks resting against theirs, and his eyes focused on those trained upon him. Any concern that they were also peeing was unimportant.

Teeth bared, growling, all six dogs with bulky collars, slowly advanced toward the boys, their snouts picked the scent of adrenaline running in the blood of their prey.

Ifor felt his heart race, his blood pressure spiked, and his penis firmed up into a hard erection.

“Turns you on?” Risley said to Ifor, “And—?”

“They’re not attacking,” Grant remarked.

Ifor felt a sudden surge of sticky warmth on his buttock, slipped into a crack, as a warm liquid oozed down the back of his thigh. He glanced for a moment, it was brown, however, the growl from the dogs snapped his eyes back to the dogs.

“Risley!” Grant snapped.

“Who cooked the fish?!” Risley retorted.

“Focus,” Ifor said, “Have you figured out—?”

“There,” Risley said.

They glanced as the dogs moved, a gap opened in front of Risley.

“Remember, for dogs,” Risley said, “Don’t panic, don’t run, or we don’t have a chance.”

Risley took the first step, took the lead toward the gap. Ifor turned, the well browned crack of Risley’s buttocks made it clear where the mess originated, but that was the least of their worries. Grant turned.

“There’s a time and place,” Grant said, eyes first leveled at Ifor’s hard erection jutting out before his eyes glanced toward Ifor’s leg, “New fetish?”

“It was before—he dumped,” Ifor said, “Our lives seem a bit more important.”

“Don’t like getting herded,” Grant said as the dogs growled and seemed to encourage them to go straight.

Risley glanced over his shoulder for a moment as they did a brisk walk through the woods.

“They seemed rather intent on chewing important things off,” Risley said, “I’d rather play for time.”

“Unless you’d rather fight them,” Ifor said.

“I thought about Blake’s gun,” Grant said, “Wish I had nicked it, too honest for that.”

“It likely would’ve been stolen,” Ifor said, “Us, with a gun as they hunted?”

Ifor stepped to either side of Risley’s new liquid brown trail as another brown gusher came out of Risley’s butt.

“Fish was definitely raw,” Risley stated.

“You think they would have waited for us to finish cooking it?” Ifor asked.

They crossed through brush beneath the trees, as they started to rise with the terrain.

“Of all the times,” Grant said, “Lets see if we can shake them off, I need a blow.”

“Ask them nicely,” Risley said.

Twenty minutes and a mile after they had started the march with the dogs, Risley brought them to a fast halt, and they became shoulder to shoulder with three hard erections near a small tree. A sharp drop–off of the ground closer to their toes than their stiff cocks were long, a cliff face beneath them. Grant, between the two, peered downward.

“Hold my hands,” Grant said, as he moved his wrists into Ifor’s and Risley’s hands.

Ifor grabbed Grant’s right hand tightly, while Risley grabbed the left. Grant leaned forward, glanced downward, while Ifor and Risley leaned slightly back.

Dogs growled, advanced.

“They want us to go over,” Risley said.

“Think we can get down,” Grant said as he pulled himself upright, “Hand it down.” Grant removed his backpack.

“You can’t be serious,” Risley stated.

“Let him try,” Ifor said, “Unless…”

Ifor turned around, took one step, two yards away, when two of the dogs came within inches. One sniffed at Ifor’s hard penis, and Ifor felt the breath along his shaft.

“Guess we’re going down,” Ifor said as he turned back, and stood on the edge of the cliff.

All six dogs marched closer, growled.

“Follow me,” Grant said.

Grant moved a yard to their left, grabbed the small trunk of a tree clinging with a couple of roots, used it as he lowered himself below the ledge. Grant swung, let go.

“No!” Risley exclaimed.

“I’m alright,” Grant said.

“Can we use some rope?” Risley asked as he started to open his backpack.

All the dogs barked, moved closer.

“That’s a NO,” Ifor said.

Ifor lowered Grant’s backpack, then his own. Ifor grabbed onto the tree, over the sheer rocky drop–off a couple hundred feet to the bottom, and lowered himself. A small chasm beneath the tree, where the last of the roots were still clinging, where Grant stood, and Ifor was only a little bit over the edge.

“Swing and jump,” Grant said.

Ifor swung, jumped, and tumbled against the dirt; Grant held him firm. Risley lowered his own backpack, which both Ifor and Grant grabbed.

“Coming,” Risley announced.

Ifor watched, next to Grant, as the feet came down first, cautiously, before they bent up as the knees came down, and halted. At that moment, Ifor could see everything up to Risley’s waist, with the pubic hair and the hard erection aimed at them.

“Just a bit further,” Grant coached.

“Can’t,” Risley said.

“Yes you can,” Ifor said, “Extend your legs.”

Risley did this, and Ifor touched the toes.

“Not too far,” Ifor said, “Looks worse than it is.”

Pfffpt!

Risley’s butt unleashed another long shot of liquid brown payload.

“Never mind that,” Grant said, “Have faith—”

Barking, growling, from above; Risley dropped fast to his hands.

“Their fangs…” Risley started as he swung.

Grant and Ifor caught Risley, brought him to stand next to them.

“And never, ever, stop believing in the power of your boner,” Ifor said, as he glanced at Risley’s.

“Think there’s more to it,” Risley said.

“Always points the way forward,” Ifor said.

Grant laughed.

“Well, look at them,” Ifor said.

They stood together, facing each other, underneath the roots of the tree above them, their hard erections jutted outward from their pubic hair, while their balls were saddled beneath. They arched their backs, Risley’s and Ifor’s foreskins retracted, and the three glans came together.

“Think of what they’ve done,” Ifor said, “And they’re capable of so much more. Boner power to the max!”

Their right hands reached, held their pinkness closer to each other.

“Friends forever,” Risley said.

“Cheers,” Grant said.

Ifor felt the heat as all three peed, two golden streams washed his own glans, his stream against the other two.

“Friends,” Ifor stated.

“Yep,” Risley said.

Their hands removed, watched themselves pee, the gold drizzled to the dirt below them.

“We’ve done a lot since we let em loose,” Risley said, “Boner power it is.”

“What he said,” Grant said.

Howls returned and a low rumble getting closer.

“Alright, what’s next?” Ifor asked as they turned, still peeing.

“I’d love to lower the packs or ditch them,” Grant said, “But we can’t lose them. Um, saddle up, and be very careful.”

“Tell that to our upstairs neighbors,” Risley said as he swung his on.

“Doubt throwing the packs over would help,” Ifor said.

“Fist, meet rock,” Grant said, “Alright, keep your center of gravity in mind, your dick ought to be touching the cliff, but don’t drag it along.”

“Of course not,” Risley said.

“Like it’s easy for me—at least you’ve got your foreskin,” Grant said, “This way.”

Rumbling got louder along with the howls. Grant took point, sideways, used his toes to balance on a narrow ledge of rock that was only wide enough for his toes. Risley and Ifor next to him. They managed twenty feet away from the hollow.

“Look,” Risley said.

They glanced, the source of rumbling clear as a moose pushed on the tree above, it collapsed, caving in the hollow where they had been. It crashed down the rock face, shook the rock wall. All three trembled for a moment, but held on.

“Keep moving,” Risley said.

Grant’s arms tensed up, he exhaled, and took a step down.

“One at a time,” Grant said as he slowly slid, “Keep an eye on where I go.” Grant pushed a tad forward, his cock shoved up against the rock. “Ow.”

“I’ll skip that fucking spot,” Risley said.

Ifor didn’t need Grant’s glancing to know his butt was draining out a bit of brown liquid.

“We’ve all got the runs from the fish,” Grant said, “Can you…like, hold it in until we get down.”

“Better to let it rip,” Ifor said, “Else I’ll cramp up.”

“Unless you want to slick up the rock, avoid it,” Grant said, “Last thing you want is to break your neck on Risley’s shit.”

Ifor knew it was coming as he leaned forward and stepped over. His toes slid a bit on the inclined rock, smooth enough for his grip to slip, rough enough as his hard erection bounced against it. Each tap, not enough to nick him, but as pleasant as sandpaper across it, served a reminder it was him, and only him, his hard cock was out, and he still rather have it be out than be shamed for it. Ifor came to stop on the foot wide ledge, twenty feet below where he started. Ifor moved to the other side of from Grant.

“You’re next!” Grant shouted up.

Ifor glanced up at Risley’s buttocks, will browned along the crack around the anus, and the balls dangled. Ifor knew his own butt was the same and grateful he wasn’t shitting in some stupid pants.

“Coming!” Risley said as he began to slide, “Whoa—whoa!”

Risley kept his butt away from the rock, a few inches between the hard dick and the rock, at first, until he leaned forward.

“Ouch!” Risley exclaimed.

Ifor and Grant reached out, arrested Risley’s near topple at the ledge.

“You’re too tight about it!” Grant said to Risley.

Risley glared at Grant.

“Ifor,” Grant said, “His backpack!”

Risley let his arms slide as Ifor pulled it off. Grant took the backpack, set it aside, before he peered over the edge, and leaned back.

“Yeah,” Grant said, “As I figured, even steeper, so we can’t be fussing over it.”

“Those dogs!” Risley said.

Barking in the distance.

“Would chew you up if you lose balance,” Grant said, “While they’re not coming up, we can’t stay up here ourselves.”

“Ideas?” Ifor asked.

“One,” Grant said, “Risley, lean back into the rock.”

Risley turned around, leaned back, his hard cock jutted out. Grant squatted, butt over the ledge, straddled Risley, and brought his hands to the erection. Grant rubbed at a bit of the abrasion on the foreskin.

“Quick kiss,” Grant said.

Grant moved his head inward, centered his mouth around Risley’s shaft hanging there. Eyes focused on the dark brown pubic hair, while the head of the penis laid on Grant’s tongue. Grant pulled it inward, the tip went in between the cheeks, and the mouth covered most of the shaft.

“Um…” Risley said.

“Alright,” Ifor said, “Dogs pushing us toward danger, lets stop for blowjobs.”

“I wasn’t planning on…” Risley started, before he exhaled.

“Can you do me next?” Ifor asked.

“Need my hand?” Risley snapped.

Grant’s tongue came out a couple of times as it massaged on Risley’s shaft. Risley sighed, breathed deep. A pump in the shaft, Grant pulled back and moved to the side, held the hard erection in the light of the afternoon. First volley of off–white shot out, escaped the ledge; subsequent volleys surged before Risley’s shaft softened down.

“You—” Risley started.

“Best kind are unasked for,” Grant said, “And you needed it to go soft for a while.”

“You’re serious?” Ifor asked.

“It’s affecting our balance—you saw Risley here, we don’t want to bang them up, but this is the widest ledge we’ve got,” Grant said, “He needed the extra from the blow to relax, be limber. So, yes, gotta do it.”

“Alright,” Ifor said as he turned to his side and aimed his hard cock at Grant, an inch away from Risley’s soft penis.

Grant turned, aimed at Ifor. Grant’s and Ifor’s erections came together, the pink glans against pink glans, as the slits kissed. Ifor’s right hand stroked Grant’s while Grant’s left hand stroked Ifor’s. Risley grinned, teased both sets of balls.

“Friends are a turn on,” Grant said.

Ifor’s and Grant’s hands swapped cocks several times, before Ifor felt his quiver. Ifor pulled up as the spasm and the release; he ejaculated as Grant and Risley watched. Ifor’s first volley spread his seed into Grant’s wild pubic hair, gave a coat to Grant’s shaft. Ifor sighed.

“Two down,” Risley said.

Grant’s shaft pumped beneath Ifor’s semi–flaccid penis, spewed the off–white a bit to the underside of Ifor’s dick, but most of it slathered onto the scrotum.

“Better?” Risley asked.

“Yeah,” Grant replied.

“Bit of fun and it worked,” Ifor said, as he glanced. Risley’s and his own dick soft, and Grant’s was shrinking. “Lets move.”

Grant held up Risley’s backpack as Risley turned.

“Of all things,” Risley said as he slipped his arms back into his backpack, “Dogs chasing our tails and you think, hey, lets shoot our loads!”

Grant began to move along the ledge, found one a short step down.

“We had to or else you’d wish we had,” Grant said, “Worse comes to worse, you did get a blow job.”

“Not where I was thinking of,” Risley said.

“Plenty of worse last thoughts,” Ifor said

“Yeah,” Risley said, “Could’ve given him a blow.”

“Friends forever?” Ifor asked, “Even if it takes a blow to save them?”

“Um…yes,” Risley replied.

“Oh,” Grant muttered, as he climbed down again, “We’re down.”

“We’re not down,” Ifor said, his eyes glancing downward.

“Not a cliff anymore,” Grant said as Ifor climbed down.

Instead of a cliff, it was now a steep embankment.

“Still a cliff,” Risley said.

“No, it isn’t,” Grant said as he took a step forward, leaned back.

Slips and near tumble, Grant used the backpack to buffer most of the impact from the fast slide down the steep embankment.

“Ladies first,” Risley said to Ifor.

Ifor took the same step, his feet unable to arrest his slide, the backpack bounced as it absorbed most of the impact, as he slid fast. A few rocks against his feet, a couple of scratches, Ifor stood up at the bottom, had a brief limp until his feet stopped complaining, and went to Grant.

“Whoa!” Risley exclaimed.

Ifor turned, watched Risley’s penis flop and bounce, as Risley repeated the same slide Grant and Ifor had done. Came over to them.

“And this is how it’s done!” Grant announced as he leaned forward, butt aimed toward Ifor and Risley. Grant’s anus dilated a bit as the liquid brown drooled down, slobbered on the dirt and gravel beneath them.

“Disgusting,” Risley said.

“We did the same—up there!” Ifor said.

“Lets move,” Grant said, “Doubt we lost them.”

“Worst wild dogs—” Risley started.

“Like it?” Ifor asked as he glanced at Risley’s dick firming back up, “Anyways, they were trained, else they would’ve attacked.”

“Agreed,” Grant said.

“But I wouldn’t count on it remaining like so,” Ifor said.

“Consult the map—” Risley started, before his eyes turned upward, “On second thought—”

Ifor caught it, two of the dogs had already made it, advanced on them.

“Go!” Grant said.

Ifor knew, as his friends did, they were being herded as they walked westerly toward the late afternoon sun.

“I don’t like this,” Risley said, in the lead.

“Look at the bright side,” Ifor said, “We’re hiking again.”

“More like a death march,” Risley stated.

“If you’d like to register a protest,” Ifor said, “Their owners might listen.”

“You’re assuming—” Risley started.

“Trained with tracking collars?” Ifor said, “They’re hunting dogs and owned by somebody.”

“Who’d set dogs onto us?” Risley asked.

“Suppose you could wait, find out,” Ifor said, “Or, more likely, find you dead.”

“They’d see us naked,” Risley said.

“That’s bothering you now?” Grant said, “Six dogs ready to chew your ass and you’re worried about your outfit?”

“As we started,” Ifor said, “We’re not human, not to them.”

“Same ones?” Risley said, “Those dogs came straight for us.”

“Make our deaths seem natural?” Grant asked.

“I’m guessing they’re going to to push us to exhaustion,” Ifor said, “Make us reckless—it’d be ruled accidental.”

“Better think of something,” Risley said.

“We’re open to ideas,” Grant said.

“Gotta wipe all out at once,” Ifor said, “Keep your eyes peeled.”

They kept their march, across the rocks, gravel, with the German Shepherd dogs right behind them adding in the periodic growls to remind them.

* * *

Tuesday, August 4th

Noise of the rushing water came to their ears as they approached the large stream. As Risley, Ifor, and Grant came to a halt at the edge, the dogs bared their teeth, growled, and approached. Ifor felt the snouts pushing on his bare butt.

“Think they mean for us to cross,” Ifor said.

“And get wet—hypo—” Grant started, “Who am I kidding? Like they’d listen!”

“They don’t seem to be the listing type,” Ifor said as he felt a more forceful push.

An open mouth, teeth against Ifor’s flesh made the threat clear as the dogs shoved him. Ifor took the first step as his foot sunk into the mud. He shivered as cold water went past him, his testicles went in as the water came up to his belly button. All six hounds swam. Grant made it out first to the mud on the other bank, studied the indentations on it and the nearby trees.

Woof!

“Let’s see…” Grant muttered, steered them toward the right.

All six dogs followed. Ifor tried for the trees, only to be be met by a growl.

“They like this way,” Risley stated.

“I know,” Ifor muttered, understood the dogs to be happy with this direction, worried what was about to come.

Ifor, like Risley and Grant, shivered as they walked, their scrotums held their testicles tight.

“Your idea—?” Risley started.

“Stay quiet,” Grant warned.

“They don’t seem—” Risley started, thumb aimed back toward the light growling of the dogs.

“Quiet!” Grant said, “On your life—quiet!”

Like Risley, Ifor kept his eye on Grant as they walked side by side. Grant’s pectoral muscles pushed against the strap while the backpack jostled against the lower back as the waist strap wasn’t fastened. Grant gripped the bottom of his backpack, held it firm against his flexing buttocks, his soft circumcised penis dangled from his brown pubic hair.

“Get ready to play dead!” Grant whispered.

Ifor caught Risley’s bewilder glance, before returned to Grant. Ifor and Risley gripped the bottom of their own backpacks as they approached the thickest part of the brush. As he did with Grant sucking on his dick, Ifor trusted Grant, enough to follow through on an act of faith.

Ifor, Risley, and Grant came through the brush, to see before them, a large bear grazing with several small ones in the trees. Grant crept on his feet until until the sow turned her head toward them, less than a dozen yards away. Grant fell to the ground, curled on his side on his side to a fetal position, while keeping his backpack on top of him. Ifor and Risley did the same; Ifor kept an eye on the bear, the other on Grant, as they were huddled within a fifteen foot radius of each other. All six dogs, two per boy, nuzzled, growled at each boy, bared their teeth at their prey as mother bear advanced toward them.

WOOF!

A dog guarding Grant began to lunge toward him, when mama bear took her swipe. Immediately, the other five dogs take to barking at the attacking bear.

BARK! BARK!

Wounded dog rushed into bite at the bear, another swipe and the German Shepherd twitched on the ground, bleeding until it stopped moving. Other five dogs moved in, the bear dragged the corpse toward her cubs in the tree. After the bear and dogs were fifty away, Grant slowly got up, crouched, and moved backward. Risley and Ifor did this as they watched the bear take another swipe at the dogs. Grant, Risley, and Ifor kept backing up, brush against their bare butts and balls, heard the barks and growls, before another yip that was silenced. Another fifty feet and Grant turned around.

“Shh!” Grant hushed at Ifor and Risley, stopped the conversation before it happened.

They moved, walking easterly, relaxed as the distance separated them from the bears. A few minutes later, their tongues eased up.

“I’ll give you a blow for that,” Risley said, “Nice thinking.”

“And risky,” Grant said, “We could’ve been their meal instead. However, as I had hoped, those dogs annoyed the bears first.”

“Glad you recognized the bear signs,” Ifor said, “Can we agree to not tangle with bears, again?”

“Depends, now, doesn’t it?” Grant said, “Hope that’s the end of that.”

“To deliberately—doesn’t reflect in the size of your balls,” Risley said, his fingers reached over, weighed Grant’s.

“Should be twice as big—at least,” Ifor said.

“Can we stop, catch our breath?” Risley asked as his fingers toyed with Grant’s stiffening penis.

“Gotta keep moving,” Grant said, “Remember, they’re hunting dogs, or are sure acting like it.”

They reached more brush, ducked under.

“What are they hunting?” Risley asked.

“Us,” Grant said, “We’re the prey.”

“That does not soothe me at all,” Risley said.

“Don’t believe in them being kind, either,” Ifor said, while wondering if Risley were serious about blowing Grant, “I doubt a hunting dog would let their prey escape.”

“Nor do I,” Grant said, “Nor do I.”

“Hunting dogs are for ducks!” Risley exclaimed

“Wish they were,” Grant said, “Like all dogs, they’re for whatever they’re trained for, eager to please their human masters, or fearful of their wrath.”

“We got shot at, the first day, remember?” Ifor said.

“Hard to remember that,” Risley said, sarcasm in his voice.

“They hunt humans,” Ifor said, “Some sick bastards are hunting humans.”

“Why?” Risley said.

“We have wars, remember? Humans killing humans,” Grant said, “Some big ones, slaughtering millions of our own kind for pitiful excuses—oil or money or greed or religion! In this case, it’d be sport, because there’s no other reason to explain it.”

“Lets find our way back to the trail,” Risley said.

They stopped, Grant dropped his backpack and took out his map. Ifor felt the fatigue on him, however, he wasn’t easy, and he yawned. He lowered his own pack, massaged his sore shoulders. Risley took the idea, did the same.

“Suppose with those collars—somebody’s going to come,” Ifor said, “Doubt we want to tangle.”

“Nope,” Risley said.

“And those dogs won’t stop unless they’re dead,” Ifor said.

“Agreed,” Grant said.

“What’s our next move?” Ifor asked.

Grant yawned.

“Good thirty miles on that,” Grant said, “But backwards, so it’s adding to our remaining distance.”

“Bet the owners would hear your complaints,” Ifor snapped.

“Easy!” Risley said, “Need a blow?”

“Offering?” Ifor asked.

“I shall,” Grant said, “In the meanwhile—I suggest—”

Grant fell toward the ground a moment before Ifor felt it on his own chest. Paws pushed hard and fast as the dog jumped at Ifor, the force knocked Ifor backward onto his butt. Bared teeth came to Ifor’s view, the dog snarled and growled into his face. Ifor backed up, the dog bit for Ifor’s dick, stopped short. Ifor backed further up. A bark, a growl, breath on his dick, Ifor got the hint and backed up into a standing. Ifor reached for his backpack when the dog’s mouth latched onto Ifor’s hand, controlled the pressure until Ifor pulled back. The dog lunged for Ifor’s crotch; Ifor spun around, and felt the hard head butt against his ass, pushed Ifor forward.

Risley and Grant joined Ifor in the march forward, their backpacks remained on the ground, behind them, and only got further away as the three dogs barked, howled at them, drove them faster. They stubbed toes, scratched themselves against the brush, as the dogs drove them. Ifor glanced over, at Risley’s dick stiffening.

“Getting off on this?” Ifor said, “Don’t have time to play with it.”

“Really?” Risley snarled.

“Maybe it’ll charm them,” Grant snapped.

“Peace,” Ifor said, “I’ll blow you both—next chance.”

“Grant gets half a blow,” Risley said, “His plan only took out half the monsters.”

“We get out of this mess, I’ll blow whoever!” Grant said, “I won’t be picky. Take a piss if you need to, better than the alternative.”

It sunk into Ifor as the dogs drove them south, hiking and climbing, crossing the stream, again, and up the hills. There was now a good chance at not making it out, they had no food and no gear, in the middle of the wilderness, and a pack of dogs determined to make sure it turned out that way.

As the hours progressed, the top of Denali approached them, and the dogs kept pushing them forward if they even threatened to slow down. Risley, Ifor, and Grant continued, fueled by adrenaline and adrenaline alone.

* * *

Wednesday, August 5th

Rays of dawn stretched across the landscape and they came to an open clearing with a lone tree in the middle, branches began at six feet up.

“Great, a tree,” Risley said.

Snouts to their buttocks, Ifor understood the message, went for the tree as the dogs herded them for it.

WOOF! WOOF!

“What?” Ifor asked, the three of them against the trunk, the three large German Shepherd dogs circled them.

WOOF! WOOF!

“Up,” Grant suggested.

Ifor jumped, caught the first branch, pulled himself up. Ifor reached down as Grant pushed up on Risley, helped him up. Grant jumped, caught Ifor’s hands and Ifor helped pull him up. Dogs kept barking until they were a dozen feet up.

“Now we’re birds in a tree,” Risley said.

“Suppose even dogs need to rest,” Ifor said as he leaned against the trunk, “We do.”

“Don’t fall asleep up here!” Grant said, “Tried that when I was eight, woke up on the ground.”

Two of the dogs ran off, the growls below continued.

“Only one,” Risley said.

“I know,” Ifor said, he had one idea, though the German Shepherd kept circling.

“At least they haven’t killed us,” Risley said.

“Likely saving us for the humans,” Grant said, “That’s what good hunting dogs do, let the humans make the actual kill.”

“Shh!” Ifor said, focused on the dog below him.

Ifor waited, gripped to the branch, waited nearly a half hour until the dog stood and peered away. Ifor pushed and released, he dropped. Ifor felt the scrunch as his balls hit the fur first, peed as he grabbed the forelegs with his arms, restrained the hindlegs with his own, rolled with it. Grant and Risley scrambled down, helped pin the dog from moving. Ifor stood back up and kicked, delivered a few good kicks to the neck, and the dog went stiff.

“We did it,” Grant exclaimed.

“Two more,” Risley stated.

“Up!” Ifor said, “Fast.”

They climbed back into the tree.

“Here they come!” Risley shouted a few minutes later.

The two other dogs came over, carrying a pair of rabbits in their snouts. They dropped the rabbits at the feet of the dead dog, and howled.

Again, Ifor jumped, Grant followed. Both pinned down on the backs of the dogs. Both dogs struggled, but Ifor and Grant held firm as Risley came down. Risley took over for Ifor. Again, Ifor kicked as the dogs howled. One kick, two, Ifor aimed for the neck, until it stopped.

“Grant,” Risley said.

Grant squirmed, struggled to keep his dog down. Risley piled on top, pinned it, as Ifor once again, kicked.

“And that’s for our backpacks!” Ifor yelled as he gave a final kick, heard the soft pop as the neck broke.

Ifor wasn’t certain if he liked the feeling within him, the gratification of watching yet another mutt convulse as it died.

“I’m tired,” Risley said.

Risley sat cross–legged on the grass. Ifor glanced at Risley’s soft penis, his own stiffened fast.

“Hold still,” Ifor said as he dropped to his hands and knees.

Ifor drew Risley’s flesh into his mouth. Days of ripeness didn’t matter, the stiffening within Ifor was bliss.

“Save some for me,” Grant said.

Ifor felt the twist, Risley’s stiffness rotate against the tongue, as Risley turned. Ifor felt the tongue on his own stiff erection, as it entered.

“Definitely, I want some,” Grant said.

Ifor felt himself release first, the tongue lapping it up, before he tasted Risley’s jolt. Ifor stood up.

“Thanks,” Ifor said, reaching down.

Risley stood up, patted Ifor on the back, before he hugged and kissed Grant.

“That’s what you get!” Risley exclaimed as he delivered a kick to one of the corpses, “Where’s our backpacks?!”

“Back there,” Ifor said.

“We need them,” Risley said, “Lets get them.”

“And easily miss them by five feet?” Grant said, “Where are we?”

Ifor, Risley, and Grant surveyed as they turned around. This nearly level clearing was halfway up the side of the ridge, at the other edge, a path of brown dirt.

“A trail!” Risley exclaimed.

“I know we’re hungry,” Grant said, “Those backpacks are at least a day hike away, if we remembered it clearly and were lucky enough to find them. This trail—here—” Grant moved fast along the trail, returned with a stick that had been sharpened.

“That’s—” Risley started.

“Ifor carved it,” Grant said, “We’ve been on this trail already, recently. I say we follow this back to the junction, back to that trailhead. With a bit of guesswork, we ought to work it out from there.

They started walking along the trail.

“We’re still naked,” Risley said, “Suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Do you care if they see your weiner?” Grant asked.

“No, it’s worry about them,” Risley said.

“Fingers crossed, we’ll get enough sympathy to catch a ride,” Grant said.

“Where to?” Ifor asked.

“Ted Stevens,” Grant said, “Or, would you rather seek out Cody?”

“No packs, no gear, no water, no food, and no rest,” Risley said, “How far?”

“Guessing a day away from the junction, four from the trailhead, by the girl’s estimates,” Grant said, “But in our dire condition, we can’t loiter, so we have to press on, try to do it in two or three?”

“Admit it,” Risley said, “We lost the hike, we lost it.”

“More time would’ve been nice,” Ifor said, “But did we?”

“Tell you that when we get home,” Risley said.

“We wanted the friendship,” Ifor said, “We still have that, and we found ourselves. It’s a win.”

“Nice thought,” Grant said.

“Berries might be around,” Ifor said, “Lets press on for home.”

Risley, Grant, and Ifor walked as fast as they could, less than a jog, along the trail. Wednesday turned into Thursday as they hiked in the moonlight, took the junction. Too famished for speech, Ifor simply took the lead until the evening, when faint howling came to their ears.

“Hear it?” Risley asked.

Howling continued in the distance, nothing that grew louder, but still a bit of howling, and the boys, having already turned at the junction, ran as the evening turned back into night.

“Got to rest—” Risley said.

“Need distance,” Grant said, “Gotta be more on our trail.”

“He’s right,” Ifor said, as he began to drift, “Though…”

In a near slumber, Ifor thought he saw a meadow, a meadow with a stream. To Ifor, it became a bed, when he fell, collapsed onto the grass, spread out. As if he were a kid stealing a cookie from a cookie jar, his hand came to reset in the water of the stream. His eyes forced themselves closed amidst the snoring of Risley’s and Grant’s deepening slumber.

* * *

Sunglasses on as Baris entered the blue house, into the back kitchen, dark like the night outside.

“Out!” Captain Alexis Sefton said, in her athletic trainer, “I’m not on duty.”

“Reconnaissance has pinpointed subjects of interest nearing expiration,” Baris said, “Based on the evidence, I ought to let it continue. So, do we have a deal or shall we leave them to their fate? What is your final answer?”


	30. Return

Friday, August 7th

Fast moving blades on the light gray helicopter with _Landcastle Police Department, Air Division_ emblazoned on the side, as the machine moved away from the trailhead in the growing light.

“There they are,” said Captain Shrader, pointed.

Irwin brought it down to the meadow, the three naked teenager boys spread out on the ground, three sets of pubic hair showed up to the drizzling sky. The helicopter landed on the other side of the small stream.

“Check them,” Irwin said as he kept the engines humming.

Holding onto his wide brimmed hat, Captain Shrader got out on the left, squatted next to Ifor and put his fingers against the neck, felt it.

“Got a pulse!” Captain Shrader said.

Irwin came over, helped lift Ifor, loaded the boy into the helicopter. Risley and Grant were carried over. All three buckled into seats before Irwin and Captain Shrader climbed back into the front. Irwin brought the engines back to life, lifted them up into the air. The helicopter sliced across the landscape, flew past the trailhead where a news helicopter was parked. Irwin piloted the helicopter through the valley that held the George Parks Highway—the lone strip of asphalt that ran from Anchorage to Fairbanks.

* * *

Risley woke first to see seats in front of him. He was naked on the right seat and buckled into a harness. Grant to the far left, Ifor squeezed in between, were asleep, naked, and buckled in.

“Excuse me,” Risley said, before he repeated himself a bit louder to the man with the wide brimmed sheriff hat.

“This is brand new,” said Captain Shrader, glancing back, “We hadn’t even loaded it with blankets when you were spotted—sorry for that. You should be feeling the heat.”

“Yeah,” Risley said, his toes in the jet of warm air, “Who are you?”

“Captain Elliot Shrader,” the Captain said, “Chief of police of Landcastle—a nice little town. When your mother couldn’t find you at camp—we’ve spent weeks looking for you.”

“What?!” Risley started, “She tried to find me there? Why?”

“Mothers have been known to visit sons,” Captain Shrader said, “Even if you weren’t aware of her plan to do so.”

Risley understood, it was the one thing they hadn’t considered in their plans.

“What?” Grant muttered.

Risley glanced over as Grant’s eyes went wide after he woke.

“Irwin!” Grant bellowed.

“Lucky guess,” Irwin said as he fingered his shirt collar.

“I don’t have a deputy rated to fly this, so he pitches in,” Captain Shrader said, “We busted those camp counselors by the way, the ones that forced you into the wilderness like that—naked.”

Grant glanced at Risley, and Risley shrugged. Unsure how to go with this.

“Something like this can make you a bit delirious,” Irwin said, “No good kid would voluntarily strip and run into the woods, and you’re good kids.”

Risley smelled the cover–up, however, the ruse sounded much better than the truth.

“Go with it,” Risley whispered to Grant.

“The good thing is that we rescued you from your ordeal,” Captain Shrader said, “And before some news jockey—a point of pride.”

Irwin brought the helicopter down onto a helipad with seven pointed stars painted on it. Downdraft of the blades blew off several wet paint signs taped near the pavement markings. Donald Faucher approached, in a white golf shirt and matching shorts, with a white fishing hat on the head.

For the first time in months, Risley felt a bit of embarrassment as the door opened, his engorging penis showing itself as reporters were there, and in front of Donald Faucher, a person Risley admired from the Wild Trekkers. His bashfulness passed as he unbuckled his harness.

“Lucky you took delivery of this yesterday,” Donald said to Captain Shrader stepping out.

“Found them in the nick of time,” Captain Shrader said as he grabbed light gray blankets from an approaching deputy.

Risley hunched down as he started to climb out, his hard cock jutted freely before the blanket was swaddled around him as his feet hit the pavement. Risley found the wool too much, loosened his blanket, and it began to drop as they walked across the grass to the glass lobby of this police headquarters.

“Please wait in here,” Captain Shrader said.

Risley loosened the blanket, set his bare buttocks onto the plush chair, even the cloth felt weird against his hide. He brushed aside his hair, his bangs away from his eyes. Risley glanced at Ifor and Grant, both with the blankets bunched on the crotches, the skin more comfortable.

“Your parents—too short of a notice to come,” Donald said.

“They didn’t have to,” Risley said.

“They’ll meet you at Portland,” Donald replied.

Risley remembered how it was before, how he’s supposed to be ashamed of the erection beneath the blanket, yet, he didn’t feel it; instead, simply knew he’d be in trouble showing it in a police station.

“I searched,” said Captain Shrader as he returned, “Unfortunately, with the remodeling, this is the best I could scrounge up are these—a nice transition after an ordeal like yours.”

Captain Shrader handed over three pairs of light gray shorts to Donald, each with the Landcastle Police Department logo on them.

“Now, as much as I’d love to hear your stories,” Captain Shrader said, “I understand there’s a flight for Portland that leaves Ted Stevens in a bit over an hour.”

“Bit close,” Donald said.

All three bare stomachs growled.

“I promised to return you three fast,” Captain Shrader said, “So, don’t delay. I’ll see if I can get you something by the time you get to the gate. Deputy Wilber can drive you there.”

“This way,” Deputy Wilber said.

Risley’s hand slipped on the blanket as he stood, the blanket fell to the floor. He stood there, naked, as Ifor and Grant did similar.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Donald said, “Come.”

Risley wondered for a moment what was going on, except that he simply followed, naked. Ifor and Grant behind him, as he went back outside. Risley’s, Ifor’s, and Grant’s bare toes felt the grass as they cut across the lawn, toward the waiting police car on the fresh pavement of the new parking lot.

“You know, the helicopter could—” Ifor started.

“Malcolm can fly you anytime,” Donald said, while clutching a pill bottle half out of his pocket, “We can make it in time by car.”

Donald opened the back door while Risley, Ifor, and Grant climbed in. Donald got into the front passenger seat, while Wilber got into the driver’s seat. Wilber flipped on the lights and sirens before pulling out of the parking lot. Donald handed over the shorts, a couple of combs, and some nail clippers. Grant brought his foot up first, began to clip, ignored the shorts.

Clip! Clip!

Donald faced forward, kept an eye out the front.

“We’re famished,” Grant said.

“If it’s not at the gate, I’ll ask the flight crew for time for takeout,” Donald said, “I don’t have the time to explain everything, please bear with me—and get those shorts on before we reach the airport.”

Risley heard the urgency in the voice, there was more to it, his balls hanging out were not important at the moment.

“Have any trout?” Ifor asked, his left foot on the back seat, and his nail clippings flying about.

“Did a bit of fishing?” Donald asked.

Risley thought of that moment Dorcia gave him a blow while casting the rod.

“Yes,” Grant said.

“You underestimate the amount of grief your stunt caused,” Donald said, “Keep that in mind when you see your parents, in Portland.”

“How long did you know?” Risley blurted.

“Middle of last month,” Donald said, “Your mother went to that camp and you know what she found?”

“Um…” Risley said.

“She didn’t find you,” Donald said, “Think about that.”

“How’s she doing?” Ifor asked, “His Mom?”

“She’ll do much better when we get to Portland,” Donald said as his phone buzzed. “Efficient, we’ve got tickets.”

Risley held a pair of shorts, he did not want to put them on.

“I won’t ask how you lost your clothes,” Donald said, “I fear I already know the answer.”

“Um…” Risley stuttered.

“When you get back to Portland,” Donald said, “Write yourself a diary or something, on your ordeal, highlight how you did or did not live up to the ideals of being a Golden Claw. You don’t have to show me, write it for your own benefit.”

Risley glanced over Wilber’s shoulder at the speedometer reading a hundred forty miles per hour before he studied Ifor bringing a comb to the fluffy brown pubic hair, pulled out knots.

“Two minutes,” Wilber announced as they left the Walter J Hickel Parkway.

Risley’s right leg went up, he pushed it into the opening of the shorts, before his left. Felt weird to trap his balls against the fabric as he pulled them up over his waist. Grant and Ifor did the same. Wilber stopped the car in front of departures for Ted Stevens International Airport, opened up the driver side for Risley. Donald opened the passenger side where Grant and Ifor got out. Risley had two steps away from the car when Wilber got back in and pulled away, lights flashing again.

“Bring anything?” Risley asked Donald.

“It’s back at the hotel,” Donald said as they entered.

Donald flashed his badge from the pocket of his golf shorts as they approached airport security. They were escorted to the front.

“Lucky us,” Grant said.

Risley glanced at Grant’s nipples before he entered the metal detector.

“This will be a moment,” said the younger lady officer, showed her hands gloved in blue.

Risley stepped to the side while Ifor and Grant passed behind. Blue patted his chest, his ribs, down to this shorts. His erection returned as her fingers pushed on it.

“Keep playing with it,” Risley blurted.

She blushed, waved him through.

“Nice,” Ifor said as they walked along the terminal.

Risley let the tent pole remain, not caring, despite it being clear the shorts were of the cheapest sort, the thin fabric did not even hide the contours of his foreskin beneath. They came to the gate.

“Suppose you need to get back—” Ifor started to say to Donald.

“I’m flying down with you,” Donald said, “Finding you was my mission, and I promised your Dad.”

“But your stuff…?” Risley started before his mind drifted back to his own backpack, laying out there, somewhere in the wilderness.

“My ticket’s a round trip,” Donald said, “I’ll be taking this plane back here after you get to Portland.”

A female flight attendant carried over three bags of Manna’s, the smell of the burgers within fresh.

“For them,” Donald said, pointing to the boys, “My stomach can’t handle it and fly.”

Risley, Ifor, and Grant took the bags.

“After you’re seated—right now,” the lady said.

Risley, Ifor, and Grant went first. Donald followed them, down the jetway.

“Alright—seats,” Donald glanced at his phone, “Captain Shrader got you the emergency exit row—nice. Me, well, last minute so beggars can’t be choosers.”

Carpet beneath his toes, Risley walked down the aisle, sat next to the window. Felt the seat on his bare back. Grant sat in the middle, while Ifor took the aisle seat. Donald kept on walking to the back.

“Guess this was one way to end the hike,” Ifor said as he sighed.

Risley smelled it, the odor from their armpits, unguarded as the shorts were the only thing on them.

“I’m hungry,” Grant said as he lowered the tray, put his bag on it. Ifor and Risley use the tray, set their bags down.

Grant pulled out the double cheeseburger with his left hand, while his right pulled down on Risley’s waistband. Ifor worked on his double cheeseburger, watched over Grant as Risley’s erection jutted out and upward. Risley knew he was supposed to be uncomfortable with this, but wasn’t. Instead, Risley ate some of the fries as Grant’s fingers wrapped themselves around the hard flesh.

“First—it’s not fish,” Ifor said.

Risley felt the fingers, Grant was efficient as he touched. Risley leaned back, let his hard shaft soar upward as Grant’s hand stroked. Ten seconds later, Risley felt the spasms, the pulsations, as his off–white salvo shot up, splattered on Risley’s bare chest, and overflow into the dark brown pubic hair.

“All cheeseburgers?” Ifor asked.

“Think so,” Risley replied as his softening dick kept oozing.

Grant took a napkin, wiped off the seed, before he restored Risley’s shorts.

“We figured out much out there,” Grant said as he wiped the residue from his fingers, “A few things we didn’t, like how to get home on missing wallets.”

“This solves that,” Ifor said.

“Wish those girls would’ve stuck around,” Risley said, “Our luck changed when they left.”

“Or they left right as it was changing,” Grant said.

Risley managed another fry before he fell asleep.

* * *

Bare–chested and wearing shorts; Ifor, Risley, and Grant woke as the Boeing 737 landed at Portland International Airport. Ifor picked through the food sack on his lap, ate at the cheeseburger, now cold. Risley munched on fries as they taxied toward the terminal. Half the passengers got up and sorted through their luggage in the overhead bins prior to the plane coming to a complete halt at the jetway. Soon, the aisle filled with people waiting for the cabin door to be open.

“What’s the rush?” Grant asked while nibbling on a fry.

Risley worked on his cheeseburger.

“Anything to drink?” Ifor asked, “Water?”

People began to empty out of the plane, came to the boys row. Ifor shook his head, became aware of his rather long hair. Risley shook his head. Ifor, Risley, and Grant remained seated while the rest of the plane emptied. Donald came up last, stopped at their row.

“Coming?” Donald asked.

“Yes,” Ifor said, “After you.”

“I’m not falling for that,” Donald said, “I’m to see that you get off the plane—all the way.”

“Once it’s…um…cleared,” Risley said as he ate the last of the french fries.

“Got a fishing pole?” Grant asked.

“I fish at the supermarket,” Donald said, “Which is how we were meant to fish.”

Ahead, all the other passengers had already left, only the flight attendants and the pilots remained.

“It’s just not the same,” Ifor said as he stood, “You take it all for granted. I mean, until we lost our backpacks—”

“There’s a lot more going on than you know,” Donald said, “Be grateful you’re back in Portland. Yes, we do have questions, but for the moment, we’re focused on your safety. Now, lets get off this infernal machine.”

“Oh,” Risley said as he stood.

Ifor led the group, up the aisle.

“Welcome to Portland,” said the same female flight attendant from before, as she stood with the other two, and the pilot, and the copilot.

They walked along the jetway.

“Why do I have the feeling we were ran out of town?” Grant asked.

“Do not dwell on the fact that you were,” Donald said, “Be grateful you’re back and alive in the Rose City.”

Ifor’s toes felt the carpet change as he stepped out of the jetway into the terminal, a small sea of black uniforms of the Portland Police. Ifor tried to walk a bit faster as Lovell, in a black police T–shirt and black jeans, came fast, wrapped his arms tightly around Ifor’s bare chest.

“Dad!” Ifor protested.

Grant and Risley snickered, while Spencer, Malcolm, and Captain Alexis Sefton started a small clap. A clap resonated to a loud echo in the terminal as others joined in.

“After all this time—Dad?” Lovell asked.

“Can I go back?” Ifor asked.

Spencer laughed, Captain Sefton groaned, and Lovell wiped off several tears.

“Are you crying?” Ifor asked.

“If you knew a fraction of what he’s been through, you’d understand,” Donald said, “Think they’re planning on a surprise party for you.”

Ifor caught the Captain pulling Donald away.

“You’re back, that’s important,” Lovell said to Ifor, “Come, we’ll get you a T–shirt.”

“I’m fine,” Ifor replied.

Ifor walked with Risley and Grant, along the concourse.

“What you wanted,” Spencer said to Lovell.

“They’re—” Lovell started.

“Teenagers,” Spencer stated.

Ifor spun on his feet, entered the hair salon.

“Need to get this—” Ifor started.

“Later,” Lovell said as Ifor felt the hands pulling him back out.

“It’s expensive here,” Spencer said to Ifor, “Go with—.”

“I know,” Lovell said.

“I seriously need this cut,” Ifor said as he felt his bangs, “It’s hot in here!”

“Were you indeed—naked?” Spencer asked as they left the secure area.

“No other choice,” Grant stated.

“They—” Lovell started.

“Survived,” Spencer said, “Used their wits too.”

They left the terminal.

“Where’s Donald?” Lovell asked.

…

“Think you ruined their surprise,” Captain Sefton said as the others went down the corridor.

“I need a water before I return,” Donald said.

“About that,” Captain Sefton said as she pulled the handle for the executive lounge. They entered. “We need to talk.”

They sat down at a table, Donald popped in a pill into a cup of water, waited for the cloudiness to clear before he drank from it.

“You can join their party,” Captain Sefton said, “You’re not returning to Alaska.”

“I’ve got an investigation—” Donald started.

“Dozens waiting on your desk,” Alexis said, “You went up, you searched, and you brought the boys home, safe. For that, you have my gratitude and that of the entire force. Any investigation up there has always been in, and needs to return to, the jurisdiction of the Alaska State Police. I’ll contact Anchorage so that you can forward a list of belongings you’d like to have back, or any evidence you think they ought to have.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Donald said.

“And go enjoy that party, you’ve earned it,” Alexis said, “We all have.”

“Does Lovell know what he bit off?” Donald asked.

“He’d better leave it alone too,” Alexis said, “The ransom was high.”

“What did you have to—?” Donald started.

“Not here, not ever,” Alexis said, “On their lives, do not investigate this again.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Donald said as he stood. “Coming?”

“I’ve got office work,” Captain Sefton said, “Later, perhaps.”

Donald left the lounge, ran for the terminal exit, where Lovell held the door of the police van open.

“Ready?” Lovell asked.

“Never,” Donald said as he sat in the back, bare–chested Ifor next to him.

“Next stop, Safari World!” Spencer said.

“NO!” Lovell said, “Home.”

“Dad, I need a haircut first!” Ifor said.

Lovell groaned and the van left the airport.


	31. Home

Ifor kept his legs spread as he rode in the van on the freeway, the elastic waistband of the shorts seemed determined to eat at his pubic hair beneath, and his balls felt hot trapped beneath the gray cloth. Nipples on his bare chest moved as he breathed.

“How was it?” Lovell asked from the front passenger seat of the van.

“A hike,” Ifor said, keeping his answer short.

“Months and that’s all you’ve got to say about it?” Lovell asked.

“Yes,” Ifor replied.

“Wasn’t as long as we wanted,” Risley said.

“Yeah!” Grant exclaimed.

“You missed the exit,” Lovell said.

“No I did not,” Spencer said, “Salon, right?”

“HOME!” Lovell said.

“Not fair,” Spencer said as they pulled off the freeway, “They want a hair cut.”

“Cool,” Grant said, “Bit shaggy.”

Donald chuckled.

“Shave it all?” Risley asked.

“Not there!” Grant snapped.

“It’s hot under here,” Ifor said, “I’m sweating!”

“Keep it up,” Risley whispered to Ifor.

Spencer pulled into the parking lot. Ifor stood up, crouched around Donald, and slid the door open. Risley and Grant followed. Asphalt beneath the toes, sun dominating over the clouds above, heat on his bare chest, Ifor walked to the entrance, entered.

“No shirts—” a lady started.

“Police business,” Spencer said, in his black uniform, “These gentlemen—”

“Of course,” the lady said, pointed.

Ifor smelled the perfume in the air as he walked along. His shorts snagged as he sat on the chair, the waistband crept down, the root of his stiffening penis and pubic hair showed. Ifor knew better than to remove them as a younger girl came to him, only several years older than himself, with _Shari_ written on her name tag.

“What’s it gonna be?” Shari asked.

“Short,” Ifor said, “Tapered down.”

“Number…?” Shari stopped, her eyes went down.

Ifor glanced, the fabric of the shorts merely draped cloth over his hard erection, the contours showed, beneath his visible billowing pubic hair

“Two or a three,” Ifor said, “On my head.”

Shari took a comb, ran it through the light brown hair on Ifor’s head, and she leaned over. Ifor glanced at her eyes, as she moved a bit slow. Ifor understood her antics, leaning, the glances, she was taking in what view she could, his crotch attracted her. Ifor wished his Dad weren’t there, he’d willingly show it off, it wanted to escape—many weeks in the wilderness and Ifor knew it was better hanging out, for better or for worse.

…

“Of all the—missing for months!” Lovell stammered, “Why bother going home?”

“It’s simply not urgent to them,” Donald said, “To you, it was an emotional roller coaster and traumatic. To them, it was an experience in the backcountry, surviving, and their hike was cut short—they’ve grown up, in a way. Everybody including yourself, Yolanda, Clancy, Meredith, Edgar, and Alyce are going to have to deal with them as such. After the past several weeks, is a handful of haircuts a big deal?”

“No,” Lovell said, “Still, all those people are at the house—what are you laughing at?” His eyes went to Spencer.

“We got them back and you’re complaining,” Spencer said.

“Of course not,” Lovell said.

“Those are different boys than left,” Donald said, “You’ve got your work cut out for you. And I need some fresh air—think I’ll walk it from here.”

Donald left the salon.

“He’s right,” Spencer said to Lovell, “It’ll be rough, but the worst is over. You, call up Yolanda, explain we’re going to be late.”

“That’s—” Lovell started.

“Call,” Spencer said.

Lovell pulled the phone out of his pocket, walked to the front of salon for better signal.

* * *

Ifor felt his short buzz of hair on his head as the van moved along Briarwood Avenue, sniffed at his armpits, and didn’t like the light gray shorts on him.

“Look!” Risley said as he pointed, strands of armpit hair beneath his outstretched arm.

Ifor read the sign.

GOD HATES YOU!

“Can we—?” Lovell started.

“You know the law’s on their side,” Spencer said, “So long as they stay off your lawn and let us pull in—”

HONK!

Lovell reached over, pushed down on the horn, as Spencer stopped short of the driveway. Two ladies moved. Spencer pulled in.

“What are they—?” Grant asked.

Another sign.

JUST DIE!

“So,” Ifor said, “Anything happening?”

“Ignore those clowns from the Acts 1:8 Church,” Lovell said.

“Cody’s church?” Grant asked.

“Have him talk to them when he gets back,” Lovell said, “Let’s get you inside.”

“SINS AND SINNERS GO TO HELL!” shouted an old man on the sidewalk in front of the house.

“Keep your cool,” Spencer said as he opened his van door.

Lovell led the way, Risley and Grant were next, and Ifor brought up the rear. Ifor felt the turf grass beneath his feet, soft and damp, and was halfway to the house when the microphone went up to his face, along with a camera. Bare chested, hands in his pockets, Ifor faced the man.

“Dom Chandler, KOPTV news,” Dom said, “What’s it like to be a billion dollar faggot?”

“What?” Ifor spat.

“I said—” Dom started.

Spencer and Lovell came back out.

“Sit and spin on that microphone,” Ifor said, “Remove it before I shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!”

“You’re trespassing,” Lovell stated.

Spencer lifted a pair of handcuffs from his belt. Dom Chandler retreated.

“Funny,” Ifor stated as he climbed up the steps.

“Later,” Lovell said.

As soon as Ifor entered the wood paneled living room, he was besieged by the tall woman, Yolanda, his mother, in a tight hug.

“Mom!” Ifor grumbled as he smelled the fragrance on her.

“We thought—we thought…” she drifted.

Ifor managed to glance around the living room, where Risley was nearly strangled by Alyce. Grant was next to the older boy, Blake with a white Portland Firefighter T–shirt. Ifor smelled chicken.

“I’m hungry,” Ifor said.

His mother let him go, and he made it over to Grant. Grant and Ifor made it into the dining room when Marcia, in a green Beacon of the Light T–shirt came to them.

“Why’d you have to bring him back?” Marcia asked as she pointed at Risley.

“He missed you too,” Grant said.

“Liar,” Marcia said, “Zombies—you all are!”

“Maybe tired,” Grant said, “Doesn’t make us—”

Marcia held up a sheet of paper from the nearby shared counter with the kitchen.

“Certificate of Death?” Grant said as he grabbed it, “Risley!”

Risley came over. Ifor thought the shorts too much on Risley.

“Check these out!” Grant said, handing one to Risley, the other to Ifor.

“Ifor Lovell Ulverston,” Risley said as Ifor read Risley’s name on his own.

“I mean…” Grant switched the papers.

Ifor read his.

“Estimated date of death, the twenty first of June?” Ifor stammered.

“Day we flew up,” Grant said.

“Accidental misadventure, undetermined?” Risley asked, “What the heck does that mean?”

“Means you died and they didn’t care enough to figure out why,” Marcia said, “Though, somebody was found dead where you started your little hike. Alaska presumed it to be you.”

“Aw,” Ifor said, “Explains Mom and Dad.”

“I must be dead,” Risley said as he laughed.

Marcia punched Risley in the gut. “Not funny.”

“Gotta frame these!” Grant said.

Grant grabbed the sandwich platter. Ifor grabbed the bucket of fried chicken. Risley grabbed the pitcher of bubbly soft drink. They went through the kitchen, back around the short hallway, and left up the wood panel lined stairs. At the top, before the small alcove with a potted plant, they turned right into Ifor’s forest green bedroom. Ifor’s shorts had fallen before he set the chicken bucket onto his desk.

“Suffocating down there,” Risley said.

Ifor threw the latches on his door, slid the bolts closed, turned around. Risley and Grant had also lost their shorts. They stood there, naked, pubic hair and balls out. Ifor did not touch his own penis, instead, it began to pop and stiffen as Risley and Grant watched.

“So—you,” Grant said.

Ifor grabbed his tablet, punched in his PIN as it scanned him.

“Set you up when we’ve got a moment,” Ifor said to Grant.

Ifor scrolled through the member list, pressed on the chat request icon for SprinterWV. A moment later, the screen filling the top half of his wall, a projector onto a white sheet, lit up, starting with a nipple with a mole nearby. Ifor tapped again.

“Full now,” Ifor said.

The image expanded, to her standing naked in front of the bunk beds of her dull blue bedroom.

“Oh—all three, Hello!” Dorcia said, “Sorry if I got you into trouble with that news report, did you see it?”

“Oh,” Ifor muttered.

“Got ambushed at the trailhead,” Dorcia said, “They thought you were dead and I simply couldn’t let that stand, had to set the record straight.”

“Forgiven,” Grant said between bites of a sandwich as his soft circumcised penis stiffened, “We did get into a bit of a bind, so likely helped our rescue.”

“Some dogs gave us grief,” Risley said, “Wouldn’t let up, even lost us our backpacks, so we had to kill them. But we were in sorry shape after that.”

“Are you alone?” Ifor asked as he grabbed a drumstick.

“Oh—I share a bedroom with Danny, my older brother, but he’s out drinking with Mitch, so I’m fine,” Dorcia said, “Got haircuts and shaved. You know, I think I liked the beards.”

“Wanna come out here?” Ifor asked, “You know, as we had talked about.”

“Tempting, it really is,” Dorcia said, “I’ll ask Maev, but gutting money for tickets—I’ll have to scrape by.”

“Can we help?” Grant asked.

“I can’t accept charity,” Dorcia said, “Though nice to see you…” she paused, her eyes scanned her screen that Ifor knew contained their three erections jutting out toward her. “Nice to see you still like me.”

“How could we forget?” Grant said, as his fingers curled around his hard shaft, “Wish you were here…watch this!”

Grant’s right fingers rode his hard dick, stroked it fast. A minute later, it sputtered and squirted; Grant stumbled as his small puddles dropped onto the hardwood floor. Dorcia giggled, her fingers into her vulva, thumbs teasing her clitoris.

“You’re welcome,” Grant said.

Risley finished a chicken wing and sipped on the pitcher of soda.

“Where is Maev?” Ifor asked.

“With her guest family—she’s a foreign exchange student, has one of those,” Dorcia said, “Now, I need to warn you about Jaimie.”

“What about him?” Risley said, “He’s the _J_ in the name here.”

“It’s why I accepted your connection at this late hour, and the three cute dicks,” Dorcia said, “He’ll see that you’ve been on…”

“What’s wrong?” Ifor asked.

“Oh, he’s polite about it,” Dorcia said, “Seems to think he’s got rockets to fly an ark on and he’s looking for volunteers.”

“Seems a bit far fetched,” Ifor said.

“Expect to get asked,” Dorcia said, “I like that cute kid and he has a nice penis, but this ark—it’s not like chatting on an illegal chat—”

“This isn’t illegal,” Ifor lied. He knew it was, his hard dick into a camera to a girl, the police wouldn’t need janitors with him.

“He’s quite handsome—got that going for it,” Dorcia said, “He was on chat—recent. I’ll let him explain when…” She paused as a door slammed. “Dad’s home—later.”

“I’m giving…” Ifor tapped on his tablet at the remote protocol, when the screen blanked before he finished.

“Tis the season to get naked,” Risley remarked. His arms crossed as he leaned back against the desk, erection softening beneath his dark brown pubic hair.

“How long were we gone?” Grant said, “I enjoyed it.”

“I had fun,” Ifor said, “Lovely girls.”

Ifor laid on his bed, the softness felt wrong, and he stood up to lean against the wall; his hard dick still up.

“What next?” Risley asked.

“Dunno,” Grant said.

Ifor walked past them, to his closet, opened it, where his stack of banned books was beneath a folded blanket.

“No sleeping bag,” Ifor said, “Oh…?”

“Should be still at my house,” Grant said.

“Guess that’s a bright spot of all this,” Ifor said, “My tent’s still there, right? New backpacks and we’d be good for another hike.”

“Alaska?” Risley asked.

Ifor laughed as he turned back around.

“Hey, Mom and Dad—we’re heading back to Alaska, wish us luck!” Ifor said, “Yeah, that’d go over really well. Make it easy, bring along our death certificates too.”

“Maybe a day thing—wasn’t Rooster Rock—” Grant said.

“Used to be,” Ifor said, “Not anymore…has to be family friendly.”

“Need to get outside,” Grant said, “Bit stuffy in here.”

“Me too,” Risley stated.

“Walls—lousy idea,” Ifor said.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“IFOR!” came Lovell’s shout.

Ifor slid the latches.

“Ifor—” Grant said.

“What?!” Ifor demanded as he opened the door, his dick softened, fast.

“We need…” Lovell started as his eyes glanced, “A party’s still being held, tough when the guests of honor—”

“We’re tired!” Ifor said as he exaggerated a yawn.

“Are you going to tell him?” Grant asked.

“Tell me what?” Lovell asked.

“Tomorrow we’re heading back to Alaska…” Grant started before breaking into laughter, “Sorry, he put me up to it!”

Risley joined in the laughter while Ifor watched the glare from his Dad.

“Realize what it took to get you back?” Lovell stammered, “Searching, the deals, anything?”

“Relax,” Grant said, “Maybe the falls or something.”

“I’ll join you,” Lovell said.

“What?” Ifor spat.

“I need the exercise,” Lovell said, “Please, come down, visit with the guests.”

“Okay,” Ifor said as he left bedroom.

“Get dressed!” Lovell exclaimed.

“I’m fine,” Ifor said as he went down the steps. Grant and Risley followed.

“You’re barbarians!” exclaimed Blake as they entered the dining room..

Grant spun around, doubled over and mooned Blake.

“Please, don’t give me another scare,” Alyce said to Risley.

“Where’s—?” Ifor asked, not seeing his mother.

“Anxiety,” Lovell said, “Been like that since you were—lost.”

“I wasn’t lost,” Ifor said, “Risley and Grant knew exactly where I was.”

“Turned your son into a barbarian?” Spencer asked as he approached Ifor, the black of the uniform contrasted with Ifor’s naked skin.

“He—” Lovell started.

“We had to hike like this,” Ifor said to Spencer, “Seemed appropriate for this party.”

Ifor waited for a moment, uncertain to the reaction.

“It is a private residence,” Lovell stated.

Ifor knew the law, and it required a complaint. Spencer turned, went over to the front windows, secured the blinds against the dark evening outside.

“You’ll catch girls with that,” said Alyce, to Risley.

“Mom!” Risley complained.

“You’re showing it off,” Alyce said, “Doesn’t matter, you’re handsome.”

Ifor went over to Grant and Blake.

“So, Ifor here,” Grant said, “Jumped—wrestled the dog to the ground, killed him.”

“Serious?” Blake asked, “You hiked naked?”

“Had no choice about it,” Ifor said.

“Had to see his pitiful thing?” Blake said, “My sympathies.”

“Know what you do when you’re your stranded, naked with a friend?” Ifor said, “Worry about the friend first.”

“You went to that camp?” Grant asked of Marcia, her green T–shirt still on.

“Somebody skipped out,” Marcia said, “I took their place for a bit.”

Risley came over.

“Ugly—get those—” Marcia stammered, her eyes on Risley’s dick dangling loosely from his dark pubic hair, “Out of my—”

“Sis—Mom wants to leave,” Risley said, “You know, work.”

“I’ll walk myself,” Marcia said, “Avoid you.”

Risley bent over as spun around, spread his legs, and mooned her.

“Convenient,” Blake said.

“A body’s our best tool,” Grant said, “Use it.”

Risley and Marcia left.

“Grant, time for us too,” Blake said, “I get to drive you home.” He turned to a grumble. “Lucky me.”

Ifor watched Grant’s buttocks flex as Blake led the way.

“Donald!” came the exclaim.

“You missed the party,” Lovell’s retort came.

Donald came into the dining room, where Ifor was still standing with his fluffy brown pubic hair out.

“I need to talk with you,” Donald said to Ifor.

“Sure,” Ifor said, though he felt the pressure, “Follow me.”

Ifor cut through the kitchen, turned left and headed into the bathroom.

“I’ll wait,” Donald said.

“Come on in,” Ifor said as he stood over the toilet and began to pee, “Seriously, I don’t care.”

Donald closed the door as he entered. He walked over, turned on the shower. Ifor turned around.

“You need the noise—good idea,” Ifor said as he moved, adjusted the knobs. He smelled the chlorine in the water, coughed.

“Alright?” Donald asked.

“Bit…” Ifor’s eyes drifted to a bottle on the shelf. His toes reached in, pushed the stopper closed, before the stem. Water became a gusher from the lower spigot, and Ifor poured the contents of the bottle into the water. Apple scent masked the chlorine, bubbles formed, and he stepped in. “Haven’t had a proper bath since we left.”

“You’ve definitely changed,” Donald said, “But that’s light, you ought to be aware before—I’m expecting a gag.”

“What?” Ifor asked as he sat on the rim, let his feet soak in the warm water, before he became aware of his penis stiffening back up, became an erection. “That? That’s bothering you?” Ifor pointed to the pink as his foreskin retracted. “Don’t. Maybe we actually wanted to, I don’t know. We stripped at the beginning, because we only had the clothes on our backs, figured those were best saved for the return. We didn’t want to stop the hike, so we…well, I’m used to it.”

Ifor slipped into the water, let the bubbles nearly cover him, save the pink tip of his hard dick and his head.

“Better?” Ifor asked.

“Know the seriousness of the situation?” Donald asked.

“That pilot, the one who flew us out, he also flew us in,” Ifor said, “After we had…stripped and stored them in our box, he came back. He shot a gun at us, and stole that box—our clothes and half our food. We had a map—”

“I surmised that much,” Donald said, “He’s part of a club that offers janitorial services.”

“What, it’s _sanctioned_ murder?” Ifor said, “Explains the dogs set on us—I mean, they had our scent.”

“You fell into the trap,” Donald said, “They thought you were referred to them for cleanup.”

“A ring, we found a ring,” Ifor said, now remembering it, “A Billy Graham High School class ring with bones including a skull that had been shot.”

“Where’s this ring now?” Donald asked.

“Grant put it in his pack,” Ifor said, “And that’s…out there.”

“Remember the price to your little misadventure,” Donald said, “That club made threats.”

“They nearly killed us,” Ifor said, “We were doing fine until their dogs came our way, herded us for an easier shot, I suppose.”

“Bribes had to be made to keep them from following through on that,” Donald said, “Did you notice their shiny new helicopter?”

“Oh,” Ifor muttered.

“Best way for you to repay Captain Sefton is to sort yourself out,” Donald said, “Shape up and attend the academy.”

Ifor took a moment.

“Getting a bit crowded in here,” Ifor said.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Donald said as he left the bathroom, closed the door.

Nessa opened the door a few minutes later, and the fourteen year old girl entered.

“You’re hogging the bathroom and I need to use—” Nessa said.

“Use it,” Ifor said.

“You’re watching!” Nessa exclaimed.

“I’ve not had a good washing in months,” Ifor said as he grabbed a washcloth, lathered it up with body wash.

Ifor stood in the bath.

“You’re not—?” Nessa started.

Ifor turned his back toward the toilet. She entered, sat. He bent over.

“Stop mooning!” Nessa exclaimed.

Ifor shook his butt, moved backward.

“Laugh at it!” Ifor suggested.

Pfffpt!

“Gross,” Nessa said.

“Don’t forget it,” Ifor said as he stood back up.

“You’ve gone savage,” Nessa said.

“And it feels—great!” Ifor replied.

FLUSH!

Nessa left. Ifor washed up, including his butt to turn the cloth brown, and sat back into the cooling water with most of the bubbles already gone. He rinsed off, let the tub drain as he grabbed a towel. Water dripped as he walked, went up the stairs.

“That’s really your weiner?” Nessa asked.

“Yes,” Ifor said, holding it out toward her, “Girls love it!”

“Not me,” Nessa said.

Ifor went back into his bedroom, where the bed had been made.

“Mom…” Ifor muttered.

He went over, laid on it, and felt alone. Gone were the sounds of running water and wind, replaced with the banter of cars and light of the city penetrating the thin curtain on his window. He pulled the sheet and comforter over him, smelled the false fresh scent of the dryer softener upon it; he threw them off, kept laying naked on his bed. A couple of honks outside, Ifor heard the hum of the air conditioner keeping it too dry and cool in there.

Footsteps approached as Ifor cracked the window open. More noise outside, but it still wasn’t right. For a moment, Ifor thought about pulling the mattress out back, when Risley and Grant entered his bedroom. Ifor’s penis stiffened at the sight of his two friends, the flesh that dangled from them.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Ifor asked.

“Not there,” Grant said.

Ifor got down, laid on the comforter on the floor, which felt right. Risley climbed on top of Ifor. Dark eyes, Ifor felt the hand hold the soft penis with his own hard erection, the pubic hair that tangled, and the hand that stroked. Ifor’s hard cock, pressed against Risley’s pubic hair, agreed to the proposal, and Ifor felt the quench, the release. Pulsating in Risley’s fingers, Ifor ejaculated. Risley rolled off while Grant curled into Ifor’s other side.

“There,” Grant said as Ifor felt the fingers to his own freshly juiced balls.

Ifor found no argument as he drifted to sleep.


	32. Savage

Saturday, August 8th

SLAM!

Ifor woke fast to the door slamming,

“Huh?” Grant muttered.

Light from his screen, Ifor spun sideways, his bare butt against Grant’s hip, back against Risley’s buttocks in the air, Grant’s hard cock against Ifor’s right thigh. On the wall was Dorcia’s shared wood paneled bedroom with her on the bottom bunk bed, illuminated with the glow of a nightlight.

“Leave it on?” Grant asked.

Two teenage boys entered through the door, flipped on a lamp. One was in a dark gray hoodie sweatshirt and only that sweatshirt, his balls dangled loose beneath the hem of the shirt, along with the bottom ridge of an erection making a tent of that hem. With a tinge of red to the hair, the other boy had a purple T–shirt and near black underwear.

“Is this her?” asked the one with a purple T–shirt, Mitch.

“As promised—sister sleeps naked,” the one with the hoodie, Danny, said.

“Dorcia!” Ifor snapped as he stood up.

“What?” Risley stammered as he stood.

“Is that—?” Grant asked as he too, stood up.

Dorcia held the blankets close to her, she trembled as Danny advanced on her. Danny’s buttocks now toward the camera, had his balls dangled between his legs.

“Danny!” Dorcia complained as his hands gripped hers to force them away.

Mitch pulled the blankets away, Dorcia was naked on the sheets.

“Gotta be naked,” Mitch said to Danny.

“No way!” Danny sneered, “Fine!” Danny pulled his hoodie off.

“Stop!” Dorcia said.

Mitch bent his head to avoid the top bunk as he pinned her hands down with his knees, dropped his black underwear, showed a thin circumcised penis stiffening.

“Go for it!” Mitch said.

“Pay attention,” Danny said to Mitch.

Danny straddled her on his hands and knees, the balls loose, the thick stiff circumcised erection loitered and jutted out beneath his pubic hair.

“STOP!” Grant shouted at the screen.

Ifor grabbed his tablet, used the police dispatcher app, and tapped.

“Dorcia!” Risley said.

“Can’t she hear us?” Grant asked.

“Guess she accidentally muted us,” Risley said.

“Frustrating,” Grant said.

“Don’t say a thing, don’t struggle,” Danny growled at Dorcia, “I know you love the family tradition.”

Danny lowered himself, rammed his hard cock between the folds on her vulva, and began to drill. Dorcia twisted, squirmed, but Danny kept it in as he thrust.

“So she does likes it!” Mitch exclaimed.

Danny’s hard shaft slid in and out, until he held it in.

“Okay, so maybe my dick does like you,” Danny said, “That’s about it.”

“Me?” Mitch said, “You promised!”

“Warm hole,” Danny said as he pulled out his softening dick, strands of off–white clung to it. “Sloppy seconds?”

Danny moved, took up where Mitch had her pinned down, put his knees on her arms, hands to her breasts.

“Bye bye virginity!” Mitch exclaimed as he moved to straddle. He removed his purple T–shirt.

“So you do shave!” Danny remarked, eyes on the stubble of Mitch’s pubic hair.

“So I—?” Mitch asked, his hard dick loitered between her legs as he was on his hands and knees.

“Go for it,” Danny said.

Dorcia tried to squirm, until Mitch managed to slip his stiffness into her.

“Ride it!” Danny said to Dorcia, “Do anything and I break your neck!”

Mitch began to thrust and pull.

“Can’t we do more?” Grant asked.

“How?” Ifor said, “I’ve issued a dispatch, so unless you know anybody else nearby—”

“Maev!” Grant said.

Dorcia managed a scream, Mitch slapped her face hard with his hand.

“Give it to the bitch!” Danny snarled.

Mitch pulled out a squirting penis, spraying his semen onto her.

“Ruined it,” Danny said, “Keep it in next time.”

Mitch placed his penis back onto her vulva, but it softened faster than he could insert it.

“Hold her,” Danny said as he moved a bit back, his knees still on her arms.

Mitch pinned her legs while Danny aimed with his soft penis. A stream of gold flew out, and Danny peed from her torso to her face, when a small chorus of police sirens came.

“Bitch ratted us—” Mitch started.

“I’ll slit her throat if she did,” Danny said.

“Her tablet!” Mitch exclaimed, his eyes direct at the tablet, at the boys in Portland.

“Seems off,” Danny ran over, “One way.” His fits punched inward, the focus and view gone.

Connection terminated.

“What the fuck—why?” Risley said, “She’d—talk nice and she’d agree to about anything.”

“Dogs deserve to be put down,” Grant said, “Let’s go east.”

“Our parents might—” Risley started.

“Give them a cover,” Grant said, “Bible camp.”

“We know how the last one worked out,” Ifor said, “See if Maev’s connected—I’ll inquire.”

“I need to get setup,” Grant said.

“Next time, bring your tablet over,” Ifor said.

They sat down, leaned back against Ifor’s bed.

“That’s not right,” Grant said.

Ifor felt the fingers on his balls, Risley’s fingers teasing Ifor’s penis stiff, let it be.

“Alterations is what they need,” Ifor said, “Snip, snip.”

“Get her to come here,” Grant said, “She can’t stay there.”

“I heard them threaten to kill her,” Ifor said, “Fortunately the cops are there, should be good by now.”

“No you’re not,” Risley said as his hand cupped Ifor’s testicles, “Yeah, definitely not alright.”

“You—” Ifor remarked.

“Your mood affects how you carry your balls,” Risley said.

“Try to get some sleep,” Grant said.

Ifor tried to get back to sleep, Risley’s hand on the balls helped.

* * *

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Ifor—parking is better with an early start!” shouted Lovell.

“Coming!” Ifor shouted.

Ifor made for the door, cracked it.

“Morning sleepy head,” Lovell said.

Ifor ducked around, went down the steps.

“You forgot clothes!” Lovell said.

Ifor went into the kitchen, his stomach hungry, grabbed a can of tuna, and opened it. He went to the refrigerator, pulled out a tub of strawberries.

“Ifor, son, weeks in the wilderness didn’t make you savage,” Lovell said as he entered the kitchen.

“I was going to use a fork,” Ifor said, “Suppose I should use my fingers instead? Or…” Ifor reached with his tongue.

“He’s winding you up,” said Grant as he entered, wearing a pair of Ifor’s green shorts, and a regular green T–shirt.

“I thought—” Lovell started.

“We came…” Risley said, in a sleeveless white shirt and the gray Landcastle police shorts, “Your house ain’t sounding like a warzone.”

Ifor shared his fork and the can with Grant.

“I’ll get…” Ifor headed for the bathroom, left the door open as he peed.

“Close the door,” Lovell said as he pulled it closed.

Ifor shook his dick as he finished, left the bathroom, and went up the stairs.

“Hurry up!” Lovell shouted up.

Ifor grabbed his pair of gray Landcastle police shorts, another of his button up short olive–drab–green shirts, and came back down the stairs.

“Put those on,” Lovell said.

Ifor groaned as he stepped into the shorts, as he no longer saw the point to hiding, except for some stupid custom. Arms into the shirt, which he left unbuttoned, and he followed out the front door, into the warm morning and got into the blue sedan, behind the driver’s seat.

“Called your parents?” Lovell asked.

“Yes,” Risley said as he sat in the middle of the back seat.

“He’d rather I be plumbing, but yes,” Grant said, from the front seat.

Ifor smelled the tuna on Risley’s breath, slipped his right hand down the front of Risley’s gray shorts as the car backed out.

“Don’t see them,” Risley said.

“They’ve got hours,” Lovell said as the car moved along Briarwood Avenue, “At least they let us sleep, give them credit there.”

Palm rested in the pubic hair as Ifor felt Risley’s stiffening penis beneath the cloth.

“Don’t stain my shorts,” Risley whispered to Ifor.

Ifor felt the hairs on Risley’s loose balls, before he pulled his hand out. Risley moved the cloth on the shorts, the hard erection jutted out from beneath the leg opening.

“Tempting,” Ifor whispered.

Risley smiled. Ifor pulled his stiffening dick out of his short leg, let Risley watch as it stiffened.

“You’re blocking my mirror,” Lovell said to Risley.

Risley hid his erection before he moved over to the passenger side, gave a frown to Ifor.

“Think your experience changed you?” Lovell asked.

“No,” Ifor lied.

Ifor knew one change as he retracted his foreskin, caught Grant’s grin as the pink showed; he had stopped caring about hiding from himself.

* * *

An hour after they had started, Ifor’s soft penis loitered outside his shorts as Lovell guided the car along the off–ramp from I84 into the parking lot for Multnomah Falls. Ifor adjusted his gray shorts before he stepped out, the elastic band confident at eating his pubic hair, loose balls threatening to make an exit, and his bare feet onto the pavement.

“No footwear?” Lovell asked.

“We evolved without it,” Ifor replied.

“Parking—be right back,” Lovell said as he went for the pay kiosk.

“I’d rather…” Ifor started to let his shirt slip.

“Don’t,” Risley said, “We’re…”

Risley didn’t really need to explain to Ifor, Ifor knew the rules and the laws they were flouting. Going barefoot with asphalt beneath their toes, lack of underwear, and his open front shirt.

“Like I really wanted to bring him along,” Grant said.

“You practically invited him,” Ifor said.

“Get a spine,” Grant retorted.

“Doubt we’d have shaken him today,” Risley said, “Seems a bit clingy.”

“Gah!” Ifor said, he understood, “Declared dead? Of course, but it’d be nice to be…” Ifor tugged at the shorts, the foreigner against his skin, forcing him to hide, constricted his balls in their place.

“Yep,” Grant said as he fingered his own waist band to the green shorts. “However…”

Lovell came back, put the parking token on the dashboard, before he grabbed a small blue backpack and put it onto his back, and locked the door.

“Up or down the Falls?” Lovell asked.

“Down,” Ifor said.

They walked through the pedestrian underpass, beneath the eastbound lanes of the freeway, turned right onto the path toward Wahkeena Falls. Ifor felt the hard dirt beneath his feet, glanced at Grant’s butt, knew the circumcised penis to be trapped by the cloth otherwise it’d show.

“So,” Lovell said, “How was your trek?”

“Um…” Ifor muttered, he knew better than to divulge.

“Great,” Risley said.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Lovell said, “Shell casings were found where you landed.”

“Lets not talk about that,” Risley replied.

“I’m grateful they missed,” Lovell said.

“It was…fun,” Grant said.

Grant continued, covered the highlights with some details to locations and wildlife, but skipped nudity and debauchery, up to Ifor’s sprained ankle. They took the sharp left at the junction.

“That’s the danger with wilderness,” Lovell said, “When you get into trouble, it’s perilous.”

“Tell him about them,” Risley said to Ifor, halfway up the hill.

“I’m at camp when they came back with two girls,” Ifor said.

“They came across us,” Risley said, “We…talked.”

Ifor snorted, he’d heard the details of the conversation that started out with Risley’s boner going into Dorcia a minute after they met.

“What can we say?” Grant said, “They were interested in sticking around with us until they had to return, so they did.”

“That explains the news report,” Lovell said.

Ifor recalled Dorcia’s apology, which immediately brought that morning back to his mind, to his hope that Dorcia was alright. He couldn’t divulge the group, it’d cost blood, more than his and Dorcia’s.

“Until then, everybody thought you had bought it,” Lovell said, “We searched half of Alaska—not the half you were in.” He described the searching of the camp.

“You pumped all the septic systems?” Grant said as he laughed.

Ifor imagined the look on Cody’s face.

“Everybody thought you had been murdered, at camp, and hidden,” Lovell said, “So, I searched it, top to bottom, head to toe. Once it was obvious you weren’t there, we searched the wilderness. Thank Malcolm—I meant Lt. Ivinghoe, for that. We found you landed, and you ought to secure your things, you lost gear there. And once they found…sorry.”

Lovell stopped until he caught his breath over another set of waterfalls.

“Efforts did pay off,” Grant said, “Hunting hounds were set on us, found us, cornered us, and forced us to abandon our backpacks. We were doing alright until then.”

“Did you remember anything on the collars—any writing?” Lovell asked.

“Didn’t think to look,” Risley said, “More interested in keeping them from biting us in the ass.”

“Hey,” Ifor said as he deliberately changed the topic, “What’s with those people in front of the house?”

“And mine?” Grant asked.

“And mine,” Risley stated.

“Showed up a week ago,” Lovell said, “Don’t take it personally even though it’s aimed at you.”

“Us?” Ifor asked, “Why?”

“Captain Sefton knows a bit more,” Lovell said, “Best if you made a show of attending church.”

“Um…I guess,” Ifor said, uncertain and uneager.

“I think I can help,” Lovell said, “Up the ante and I’ll talk the Captain about adding slots to the academy, send all of you, because, I mean, you proved yourselves in Alaska.

“But my Mom—” Risley started.

“You handled hounds with bears,” Lovell said, “You can talk to her about what you do want. Same with you, Grant.”

They came to the junction, took the left trail down a short distance to the observation platform at the top of the main falls.

“Hundreds of feet down,” Grant said, peering over the railing.

A yelp and a scream. A nail snagged Ifor’s shorts as he moved off the platform; he overpowered his shorts, let them rip and drop as he rushed. Grant scaled the bank along the upper trail with a shortless Ifor, when they came to the source of the noise. A young man, roughly eighteen, had a tight grip on a couple of tree roots as he hung over the ledge.

“Help!” the man shouted at Ifor and Grant.

Ifor and Grant got onto their stomachs as they approached the edge. They reached over. Grant grabbed the arms while Ifor reached for the armpits. Together, Ifor and Grant pulled while the man’s shoes tried to help. Slowly, the man rose above the edge, until he was on the ground next to Ifor and Grant.

“Lost my camera—” the man said, “Good camera.”

“Forget the camera when you’re inches from death!” Ifor snapped as he stood, his dick stiffening behind the low hedge to the trail.

“Quite expensive—that would’ve been a good shot!” the man exclaimed.

“What’s the matter?” Lovell asked as he approached.

“Must’ve slipped as he tried to take a picture,” Ifor said, “Ought to be grateful he didn’t take the fast way down.

The man glared at Ifor with his hard erection jutting out down below two open halves of his button–up short sleeved green shirt , before jumping the bush and running down the trail.

“Get that a lot in police work,” Lovell said, “Blame the rescuer for saving their life when they’re worried about—?”

“Camera,” Grant said.

“Likely a good one or an antique,” Risley said.

“Nice work,” Lovell said, “Come on.”

Ifor’s hard cock swayed as he stepped around the bush.

“Shorts?” Lovell asked.

“Lost em—there,” Ifor said, vague pointed.

“Got em,” Risley started, holding them up, with a bad rip to the side.

“Catch me!” Ifor exclaimed as he bolted into a run.

Ifor ignored the glares and stares, enjoyed the bouncing of his balls as he ran down the trail. Risley slid across the switchbacks, cut Ifor off before he made it to the bridge on the lower side of the falls. Risley tackled Ifor. Ifor squirmed as Risley forced the shorts onto Ifor.

“Gotcha,” Risley said.

Ifor laughed, stood, where the rip merely left his erection visible from his left side, the pole on his tent. Grant came next.

“IFOR!” Lovell exclaimed as he caught up. Lovell panted.

“It was fun!” Ifor said.

“Anything else about this trek you want to share?” Lovell asked.

“Stop it,” Grant said, “Clothing’s…simply unimportant.”

“Left side,” Lovell said to Ifor.

Ifor walked to the left.

“And take care of that!” Lovell snapped.

“Okay,” Ifor replied as he shifted the fabric.

Ifor’s fingers curled around his hard shaft, stroked as he walked, took the glares from those walking past.

“Why is he snowing?” asked a young girl, walking nearby, as Ifor felt the pulsations.

Surge after surge, Ifor left a trail of white puddles. Fabric settled over his softening penis, slimy to the front, as he walked.

“You and I need to have a talk when we get home,” Lovell said to Ifor.

“Send us back to Alaska,” Ifor said.

“NO!” Lovell snapped.

Ifor walked along, felt the bit of air mix with his loose balls.

“I miss it too,” Risley said, walking along with Ifor, “I’d love to go back, doubt they’d let me leave the state.”

Ifor knew everybody else was trapped beneath the cloth, didn’t understand why he felt worse than them.

* * *

“He came back a savage!” Lovell exclaimed to Spencer on the phone to his ear.

“Complaining?” Spencer asked.

“I thought the hike was a lovely idea,” Lovell said, “And while losing his shorts while rescuing that man—excusable. It was his behavior afterwards, he didn’t want to put them back on! Even still—”

“A bit of humility does you good,” Spencer said.

“I don’t want to believe what that church is saying—” Lovell said.

“Dinner?” Spencer said, “They got lost, it’ll take time to shake that out.”

“Maybe, but he wouldn’t even speak to me when we got home,” Lovell said, “He locked himself in his room again.”

“Is the pickup still there?” Spencer asked.

“I checked,” Lovell said.

“Better or worse than burying him?” Spencer asked.

“Got a point,” Lovell said, “This isn’t a gag, something you and Donald set him up to do?”

“No,” Spencer said, “I’m on duty, so I can’t take too much time. See you tonight.”

“Later,” Lovell said.

* * *

“GO TO HELL!” came the shout from outside.

Ifor’s shorts and shirt were off by the time he entered the living room, went up the stairs, and latched the bolts to his bedroom door. Ifor felt his loose balls, teased them as he stiffened. A chime from his tablet and Ifor tapped his hard dick on it, again on the accept button.

“Did you call the cops?” Maev asked from the screen.

Ifor glanced at her, bare from what he could see, from her head down to the breasts, red and white bathroom behind her.

“Oh—this morning?” Ifor said, “Yes.”

“Congratulations,” Maev said, “You got Dorcia arrested for soliciting prostitution.”

“What?!” Ifor stammered, “They—her brother and friend, barged in and raped her!” His stiff dick softened rapidly. “Didn’t look voluntary to me.”

“You don’t understand it around here,” Maev said, “Girls are sticks of bubblegum, one fuck, and it’s used. Luckily Wallace agreed to overlook this, take her despite being tainted goods.”

“Wallace, as in that cousin she’s supposed to marry?” Ifor asked, “Doesn’t she get a say in how her pussy’s to be used?”

“Glad you feel that and are willing to take a stand,” Maev said, “Understand its worse for her now as she’s under house arrest. Do not contact her—I’m telling everybody not to.”

“Get her out here,” Ifor said as he held his balls, “I’ll take her in.”

“Your folks?” Maev asked.

“Dad’s being Dad,” Ifor said, “Having a girlfriend would help.” Ifor described the protesters outside.

“Oh,” Maev said.

“Right now,” Ifor said, “They’re staying off the lawn—mostly.”

“We’d get caught up in that if we headed west,” Maev said.

“Dorcia’s not safe there—I heard them,” Ifor said, “Doubt you are either. I’ll talk to my study group, see if we can sponsor something—dunno, a scholarship to…erm…bible study camp?”

“You ditched one!” Maev said.

“Not like that,” Ifor said, “You both matter to me, to Risley, and to Grant. We’ll come and rescue you both if we have to.”

“We’d like that,” Maev said, “But it’d only be worse when they drag us back. Though I heard you were rescued in the buff.”

“Funny enough, that wasn’t a pressing concern,” Ifor said, “There was more, as you suspected, likely even more beyond that.”

“Guess how I came to America made me more cynical,” Maev said, “Unfortunately, I’ve been proven correct numerous times.”

“Once Dad eases up, I’ll come out for a visit,” Ifor said, “Publicly claim her?”

“I’ll be more cautious than she’d be,” Maev said, before a loud knock, “Look, shower’s supposed to be over and must run. Love you, bye.”

Maev’s picture vanished, replaced by a mirror image of himself. Ifor stood there, studied himself, his fluffy brown pubic hair, the soft penis, and his loose balls that dangled beneath his foreskin. Ifor thought for a moment about watching himself take a piss, but it’d be on his bedroom floor, and he’d have to live with that.

“You’re barking at the wrong boy!” came a shout from outside.

Ifor went over, peeked through the blinds, as a blond long haired girl came through the crowd, cast on her left leg beneath her yellow shorts. Ainsley approached the house.

“POINTLESS!” shouted another man while he carried a sign.

BURN! HOUSE OF FAGGOTS!

“He’s upstairs,” came his mother’s voice from below.

Ifor heard the clatter on the stairs, unbolted his door, and had it open when she reached the top.

“Um…” Ainsley said, her eyes on Ifor as she entered.

Ifor closed and bolted the door.

“How much longer?” Ifor asked, “Been weeks since your accident.”

Ainsley, though, simply studied him, before she raised her phone. Ifor took a step, deflected her phone out of position.

“You can see,” Ifor said, “One snap and cops bust you, like those fellows out there need fodder for even more picket signs.”

“Sorry, classic Ifor, worthy of…” she drifted.

“Nice seeing you,” Ifor said.

She took a step, held onto him, and hugged. Her nipples of her breasts pushed against her bra and shirt into his chest. His penis stiffened against her, and she blushed.

“Sorry,” Ainsley said as she backed away, “I had heard you died, and, well, you’re back, so you must’ve gotten better. Must be awkward like that.”

“Bible study, remember?” Ifor said, “Our little hike, we hiked naked, and I learned…I learned to be comfortable with myself in my skin. Nothing wrong with popping a boner around you.”

“Heh,” Ainsley said.

Ifor’s tablet chimed, he tapped his hard dick against it. Two faces came to his screen, on the left, a boy of Puerto Rican origin, while the right was a brown haired girl, both naked down to the edge of the screen which included her breasts.

“Only in this chat do you get naked girls calling you,” Ainsley said.

“Hello—Ifor, right?” the boy said, “I’m Alfonso.”

“Um…she…to the right,” Ifor said, “Nipple—can’t place…Gretel, right?”

“Software upgrade,” Gretel said, “It’ll encourage us to be honest.” Ifor’s view panned out, showed them both toe be naked from head to toe while standing in front of a leather sofa in a wood lined room. “Better?”

Ifor studied the picture on his wall. Alfonso, with scruffy dark pubic hair around a circumcised penis, a penis with darker skin than the rest of him. Gretel, with those large nipples made her breasts seem tiny.

“Glad you approve,” Gretel said.

“Oh,” Ifor said.

“Fine—you’d get along here,” Alfonso said.

Ifor, aware that they were studying his hard erection, kept standing there.

“Is everybody—?” Ifor started.

“Naked,” Gretel said, “Jaimie was going to call but he’s going to be out for a while. He’s got this idea—”

“Some sort of ark?” Ifor asked.

“Do you _like_ your situation?” Alfonso said, “You’ve been marked as spiritually deficient.”

“I am?” Ifor asked, though it’d all make sense—the scholarship, Donald’s warning, his Dad’s behavior.

“Weekly bible study but your marks kept sliding,” Alfonso said, “Will your skipping that bible camp help them?”

“Marks?” Ifor said, “Who’s marking me?”

“Who told you about our—?” Ainsley started.

“So, you are—Ainsley?” Alfonso said, “Couldn’t see—why are you dressed?”

“My account,” Ifor said, “You called me—she happened to be here.”

“Before we get into that debate,” Gretel said, “It’s a simple idea, this ark. Jaimie managed to procure a rocket or two, to be launched next year, and we intend to be on them. We’re designing the spacecraft now and you’d be perfect.”

“Where and what are you doing with these arks?” Ifor asked, the scheme sounded more preposterous than any of Grant’s ideas.

“Headed to the Moon,” Gretel said, “We intend to setup a small habitat, a new life, away from religious hatred of … of us.”

“Intriguing,” Ifor said, “But far fetched.”

“I thought the same,” Alfonso said, “But I had nothing better.”

“Got a real engineer, a proper one, helping us,” Gretel said, “Not one of those bible toting junkies, but a real one. Once we’ve got a design, we start construction later this month as the first flight is in June.”

“June?” Ifor spat.

“It’s tight, but miracles can happen if you try hard enough,” Gretel said, “Like you came back from the dead.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Ifor said.

“You’ve got a death certificate yet you speak,” Gretel said, “The catch is, because we have to survive, all else is secondary. You’d fly naked.”

“Naked?” Ifor asked, the thought had appeal to him.

“Yes,” Alfonso said, “Naked, no personal possessions, because every ounce must be filled with—”

“IFOR!” Lovell shouted through the door, “I’m taking you and your girlfriend out for a dinner date!”

Ifor sighed.

“IFOR!” Lovell said, knocking on the door.

“Have to scram,” Ifor whispered, “Later.”

Connection terminated.

“Just a moment,” Ainsley replied.

“I should check—” Lovell started.

“It’s fine!” Ifor snapped as he opened the door, his hard erection still jutting outward, “Needed to secure the bookmark in the old Bible first.”

“We can have a ribbon sewn in,” Lovell said, “Mary’s Bible Repair could to that for you—or she could!”

“She’s been dressed,” Ifor stated, “You promised dinner.”

“Put something on,” Lovell said, “And lets go.”

Ainsley handed Ifor his favorite green button up shirt, along with a pair of green shorts. He put them on as he stood there, but left the shirt unbuttoned.

“Fair advertising,” Ifor said as he went down the stairs, “She deserved to know what she was getting.”

Ainsley gripped the railing, came down along with Lovell.

“This is nice,” Ainsley said.

“You’re his girlfriend, right?” Lovell said, “Makes you part of the family.”

That was news to Ifor, however, the protesters drew his attention as he left the house.

“JOIN THOSE WHO KILLED MY FAMILY!” shouted one of them.

“Lovely,” Ifor muttered as he got into the back seat of the sedan.

Nessa was already behind the driver’s seat, and Ainsley approaching, so Ifor got into the middle.

“You’re naked,” Nessa seethed.

“I’ve got—” Ifor protested.

“Just about,” Nessa retorted.

“Quiet!” said Yolanda, from the front passenger seat, “If we can just do something about those protesters.”

“You need to understand it from his perspective,” Lovell said as he got into the driver seat.

Lovell leaned over, kissed Yolanda, before he started the engine. They started to move.

“That’s Brady Larkhill,” Lovell said, “He was at Pheasant Run—”

“Horrific,” Ainsley said.

Ifor knew it, recalled the report, the old stories about the militant atheists behind it.

“His wife and two of his daughters did not survive,” Lovell said, “I know personally how that can affect you.”

“Sorry,” Ifor muttered.

Ifor felt the jab from Nessa.

“Stop it,” Ifor whispered.

“Ignore her,” Ainsley said, her hand moved to the tightness of the green shorts, felt it.

“That’s his—” Nessa started.

“Kiss it!” Ifor said to Nessa.

“No way,” Nessa replied.

Lovell pulled into the parking lot of the _Cowboy Grill_ and parked near the back. Ifor felt every unfilled crack as he walked barefoot across the pavement.

“They do require shoes,” Nessa said.

“Already spoke to them while making the reservations,” Lovell said, “Bit of tolerance until we re–civilize your brother.”

“Don’t bother,” Ifor said, rather having that occasional thorn over having to bind his lower digits.

“I’ll second that,” Ainsley whispered into Ifor’s ear.

Risley, in his white sleeveless shirt and purple underwear, stood next to Grant in a yellow T–shirt and shorts. Both were barefooted.

“You’re in on this too?” Ifor asked, glancing at the contour on Risley’s underwear.

“Technically, they’re sold as shorts,” Risley whispered. Ifor understood, underwear was supposed to be white.

“Not my idea,” Grant said, “Nice date.”

Ainsley blushed.

“Happened to be at my house—” Ifor started.

“Sure,” Grant said, “We buy that.”

Ifor followed Grant and Risley, Ainsley his side, into the side of the dining area. Tables had been squeezed together to make for a bigger one, one that took over most of the dining room. Ifor recognized them all, including his Dad’s boss, Captain Alexis Sefton who was in charge of his Battalion.

“—so here I was,” Spencer said, “Crawling through the sewer pipe—”

“Should’ve called Dad,” Blake said, “Plumbers can do it better.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Spencer said.

“He’s got things to make that easy,” Blake said, “Everybody calls cops when they ought to call plumbers after dropping jewelry down the drain.”

Ifor moved to the other end, sat down at the head of the table. Grant and Risley sat to either side of him, their knees hit, while Ainsley sat next to Grant.

“Hey!” Alyce said as she stood next to them, “Sorry if everybody’s been giving you a tough time. I’m grateful you’re here with us.”

Alyce walked down to the table, sat with an older man, Risley’s father, whose walker was behind him.

“I couldn’t have cared less,” Marcia said as she approached, “This was supposed to be your memorial dinner.”

“Memorial dinner?” Ifor asked.

“Yep—now, if you could please lie down for a picture?” Marcia asked.

“Don’t think so,” Risley said before he spat at her.

“Could you have thought to bring Cody back?!” Marcia asked.

“He’s one step shy of heaven,” Risley said, “Do you miss him?”

“No,” Marcia said.

Ifor didn’t know what to make of her smirk.

“Good,” Risley said, “He’ll want to stay.”

Ifor felt fingers beneath the table, ones that explored into the cuff of his shorts, teased his foreskin. Ifor glanced at Risley, at Grant, both shrugged, despite having their hands beneath the table.

“What?” Ainsley asked.

“Nothing,” Grant and Risley said, in unison.

Fingers drew out Ifor’s erection beneath the table. Ifor grabbed a garlic bread stick, sucked on it, licked it, as he felt the fingers tease his glans, his balls.

“We thought we had the best plans,” Ifor said, “Yet, it ends in a sticky mess.”

Ifor felt the tension as Captain Sefton came over. A spasm, Ifor felt his release, heard the splatter to the carpet beneath.

“Duty calls at unexpected hours,” Captain Sefton said, “Glad you made it back in one piece.”

She reached, Ifor shook her hand. Grant and Risley shook as well, which left Ifor wondering which one had been playing with his hard dick moments earlier, which one had left him drizzling his seed into the carpet.

“Enjoy,” Captain Sefton said as she left.

Risley and Grant leaned over, glanced beneath the table.

“What?” Ainsley asked, “You’re blocking—”

“Better that way,” Grant said.

Despite the high of his orgasm, Ifor felt his nerves grow, so after his softening penis retracted into his shorts, he stood. Ifor went for the carryout entrance; Risley, Grant, and Ainsley followed.

“Too stuffy in there,” Grant said.

“You’re the guests of honor,” Ainsley said, “They’ll notice.”

“Sorry,” Grant said, “I could only be in there for so long.”

“Too crowded,” Ifor said.

“Claustrophobic?” Donald asked as he came out.

“A bit, I guess,” Grant said.

“Ordinarily we would’ve insisted on some time to acclimate,” Donald said, “Ordinarily, you’d be interviewed—”

“You didn’t,” Ifor said.

“There were…factors, factors that made it vital to get you out—skin was tolerated because of that urgency,” Donald said, “Those factors are still in play, but you’ve been given a second chance. Use it wisely.”

“Um,” Ifor said, “Thank you.”

Donald pulled out a cigar, lit it.

“You don’t smoke,” Ifor said.

“Habits can change as the situation warrants,” Donald said, before he brought it to his lips.


	33. Loose

Sunday, August 9th

Ifor scratched at his green shorts beneath his open shirt, as he approached the low profile building with a steeple on it, took a sharp step to the right to get his bare feet onto the grass. Grant came up, also barefoot, in the same yellow T–shirt and shorts of the previous day.

“Alright?” Grant asked, “Never the same, is it?”

“We never…” Ifor stopped himself, figured evolution wasn’t the right topic near the church, “You’re here?”

“Somebody recommended I try this once in a while,” Grant said, “Thought I’d explore the different options.”

“Um, alright,” Ifor said.

Ifor caught a sharp glint of a reflection, glanced up. A young man, on the roof, who tried to use the steeple as a shield, held a good camera with a long telephoto lens, aimed toward Ifor.

“Yes, good idea,” Ifor said before they entered the Renewal of Hope Lutheran Church, into the light blue entrance.

“Few people have risen from the dead,” said the tall man, with a black dress shirt, and a smile across his face

“Greetings Pastor Teddy,” Ifor said while he shook the man’s hand.

“Always good to bring a friend,” the Reverend said.

“Just visiting,” Grant said, “Somebody clogged up their drains again—has to be fixed, today.”

Ifor signed the roster, and so did Grant. Carpet beneath their feet, they slid along the back pew, a long chain of pews in front of them, and sat with Grant to Ifor’s right. Lovell, on a pew halfway up and on the other side, glanced at them for a moment before turning his head forward.

“Yeah, I miss it too,” Grant said, “Being out there.”

“Good morning!” said Pastor Teddy, standing up in the middle before the altar, white robes on, sashes draped from either side.

Ifor glanced down, knew the curves to Grant’s buttocks, knew at this angle he ought be seeing Grant’s penis and pubic hair, that friends were better naked together, and Ifor felt the familiar ratcheting of his own dick pushing against his shorts. Uncomfortable, Ifor adjusted his green shorts, the phone in his left pocket, and let the foreskin covered tip of his erection loiter outside the leg.

“Know what’s on your mind,” Grant whispered.

“Can you argue?” Ifor replied.

“No,” Grant snickered, before they got the uncomfortable stares from others.

Ifor sandwiched the tip of his foreskin between his fingers, held it, which made the service tolerable and kept himself hard into the sermon.

“Boring,” Grant muttered.

Grant’s hand reached over, pulled on Ifor’s shorts a bit more, the opening of the leg shifted, letting out Ifor’s loose balls onto the wooden bench, wafts of pubic hair, and the full erection. Grant started to tease when Ifor shook his head.

“Fine,” Grant whispered.

“It’s church!” Ifor whispered.

Ifor’s left hand moved to his shorts, started to move the cloth, instead his hand cradled his balls.

“Some poor smuck’s getting married at Risley’s church today,” Grant said, “Snip, snip.”

“Guess this is to be our lives, church, the police, and kids,” Ifor said, “Seems a bit dull.”

“Yeah it does,” Grant said, “Summer’s not over, yet. So, maybe squeeze out a bit more fun?”

“Yeah,” Ifor said as he squeezed his balls.

“Talked to Dad,” Grant said, “Agreed to let me try the police—but, he insists on me helping with the plumbing business. Suppose it’s good to have a trade.”

“Don’t work too—” Ifor started.

“—and those who like to talk during the sermon,” said the reverend from the pulpit.

Ifor became aware of the stares, as everyone’s eyes were trained on Grant and Ifor. Ifor caught Grant’s blushing, figured he was doing the same.

“It’s good to pay attention,” the reverend said.

As the reverend continued, Ifor put his left foot onto the back of the pew, and used a stubby pencil to dig out a bit of cruft from underneath his big toenail; his erection subsided, and Grant restored Ifor’s shorts to cover it as the crowds stood up to leave. Grant and Ifor kept sitting there, waited.

“Come, people will want to talk with you two,” Lovell said as he stopped by.

“I need to get back,” Grant said.

A handshake and a hug, Grant left. Ifor followed his Dad into the social hall; Ifor kept his hands in his pocket, his shirt open to past his nipples.

“Hello,” said a lady.

“Hello,” Ifor replied.

“Heard you died,” said a man.

“Got better,” Ifor replied.

Ifor found no time to actually drink or eat anything as the insistent questioning continued and got onto his nerves. Ifor was grateful when the phone in his shorts pocket vibrated late, pulled it out, checked the messages, and walked over to Lovell.

“Dad,” Ifor said, “Be a bit late—Ainsley’s getting her cast removed.”

“Be mindful of the time,” Lovell said.

Ifor left the church, kept his shirt open and felt the afternoon sun on his chest. He wondered if he could ditch his clothes, when he got to the street car stop, hopped on. He made it to the hospital and entered.

“Hi,” Ainsley said as Ifor came into the waiting room, “They claim it should’ve already been done, but I’m stuck here, waiting.”

Points of her nipples pressed against her T–shirt, reminded him of what laid beneath. Ifor’s penis swelled, stiffened, and pushed the cloth of his green shorts forward. A quick adjustment, and the cloth was a close tent, Ainsley smiled.

“Oh, it’s him,” Ainsley’s Aunt Jeanna said, “Suppose you’re taking him in?”

“Ifor’s nice!” Ainsley said.

“No need to get interested in him,” Aunt Jeanna replied.

“He’s my friend!” Ainsley said, “He’s coming in with me.”

“Miss. Ainsley Meriwether?” asked a lady nurse as she came out into the waiting area.

“That’s her,” Ifor said as he pointed.

“Yes,” Ainsley said.

“Come this way—and, if you wish, your boyfriend,” Nurse Fulney said.

“Friend,” Ifor said, hands in his pockets.

“Classic denial,” Nurse Fulney said as she escorted them into a small room.

Ifor sat on the patient table next to Ainsley.

“Thank you,” Ainsley said.

Her hand reached, and Ifor brought it over, wrapped her fingers around his green cloth. She felt inward, the stiff shaft.

“You’re open with it,” Ainsley said.

“Yeah, it’s—” Ifor said.

Knock! Knock!

Ifor moved his cloth, made the erection less apparent as a man in a white coat entered.

“Hello,” said the man as he checked a clipboard, “I’m Dr. Jamieson—let’s see, head amputation—I mean, cast removal.” He belted out a short laugh.

Neither Ainsley nor Ifor smiled.

“Tough audience,” the doctor said, “Let’s first pray—bow your heads.”

Ainsley and Ifor did this.

“Oh Lord,” the doctor said, “Let your wisdom guide my hand steady today. Ahem.”

Dr. Jamieson took out a rotary tool adjusted the depth of the cutting blade, and brought it to the cast covered in signatures.

“You’ve got a lot of well wishers,” the doctor said, “Good.”

Dr. Jamieson turned it on, proceeded to cut through the plaster on her leg, moving the tool around the signatures, until he cut both sides. He slowly pried the plaster apart.

“And?” the doctor asked.

“Weird and free,” Ainsley said.

“Take it easy,” the doctor said, “Your friend can help, as needed.” He winked at Ifor.

Ifor wrapped his arm around her, held her steady as she put weight onto her leg, and she held onto him.

“Needs a wash,” Ainsley said.

“Weeks in the cast will do that,” the doctor said, “Unless you have any questions?”

“None,” Ainsley said.

“Like I said,” the doctor said, “Take it easy.” And he left.

The nurse came in, put the two halves of the cast into a bag, handed it to Ainsley. She grabbed and carried them with her left, while her right held onto Ifor.

“Thank you,” Ainsley said.

“No problem,” Ifor replied.

They returned to the waiting room, where Aunt Jeanna was.

“Your leg looks alright,” Aunt Jeanna said, “Fail to see what the fuss is about.”

“I can escort her home,” Ifor said.

“But can you take this—rather not carry it,” Ainsley said as she handed the bag over to Aunt Jeanna.

“Are you certain?” Aunt Jeanna said, “There are plenty of other fish—”

“Ifor’s my friend—FRIEND!” Ainsley said, “He—”

“He’s a Barbarian!” Aunt Jeanna’s eyes went over Ifor’s bare chest between the open flaps of his button up shirt, to the obvious erection trying to escape his shorts, before they focused to the floor. “Doesn’t even wear shoes!”

Ainsley glanced at Ifor’s feet, the with the toenails there.

“Better to know where he stands,” Ainsley said, “You HATE me!”

Ifor shrugged, glanced at Ainsley’s Aunt Jeanna, before he followed Ainsley storming out of the hospital into the early evening.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Ainsley said, tears on her face.

“It’s alright,” Ifor said as he tried to wrap his arm around her. His erection pressed against her and she twisted away.

“You—” Ainsley started.

“A friend,” Ifor said, “A friend no longer ashamed to say I do find you hot, but friendship comes first.”

Ainsley breathed.

“You’re not hiding it,” Ainsley stated, her eyes aimed at his shorts.

“It’s part of who I am,” Ifor said, “The one lesson of Alaska was that, I accept myself for who I am, and there’s no shame in being horny, because that’s who I am around you.”

They walked for the Max station.

“So, what was it like, your ordeal?” Ainsley asked.

“I wouldn’t call it an ordeal,” Ifor said.

“But you were naked,” Ainsley said.

“Yes, naked,” Ifor said, “You adapt.”

“Can’t fathom it,” Ainsley said.

Ifor thought for a moment as a train approached.

“Come,” Ifor said.

Ainsley followed Ifor onto the train, rode it through downtown, to underneath the west hills, where they got off. They climbed the stairs, the afternoon still on them. Ifor pulled off his shirt as they crossed the empty parking lot, entered the paths between the rose bushes, where his shorts dropped. Heat of the sun warmed his hard cock jutting forward from beneath his billowing pubic hair.

“What?” Ainsley asked.

“Strip if you want to know what it’s like,” Ifor said, his hard dick aimed at her over his loose balls, “Only way.”

Ainsley turned around, back toward him, her long blonde hair flowed down her back, while her hands pulled off her shirt, revealed her to be braless. Ifor grabbed the shirt, dropped it onto his shorts on the ground. Her hands hesitated at her waist band.

“You’re….” Ainsley said, “You’re….”

“I’m not hiding my opinion, but you’re doing good so far,” Ifor said, “And if you’re considering Jaimie’s ridiculous idea, you need to get used to it.”

“It has its merits,” Ainsley said as she pushed her shorts and lace panties below her buttocks.

Tight and fleshy buttocks, the dark crack that hinted at what laid beneath. Ifor knew his twitching erection wasn’t going away.

“Serious?” Ifor asked as her shorts hit her ankles, and she stepped out.

“It’s got thorny issues—the whole plan,” Ainsley said, as she turned around, “So, not really.”

Shadows from her nipples, the roundness of the shallow breasts, the rough carpet of blond pubic hair between her legs, she stood there. She pulled her hair forward, it covered her left breasts. Ifor’s hard cock twitched as he studied those blue eyes focused back at him. Ifor retracted his foreskin, the pink glans showed with his slit.

“Beautiful,” Ifor said, “Lovely.”

“I bet,” Ainsley said.

“Let’s get a better view,” Ifor said, ushering her forward, their clothes left behind.

“Getting us into trouble?” Ainsley said, “Somebody might see us.”

“What’s wrong with you making me horny?” Ifor said, “Should be proud of it.”

“You’ve changed,” Ainsley said, “You really have.”

“Watch,” Ifor said as he gripped his hard dick, kept walking.

A bit of focus, of effort, and he willed it to happen, his slit shot out a stream of gold out onto the path before them.

“You’re—” Ainsley said, “Going to get us into trouble!”

“We’re horny lovebirds, so the worst?” Ifor said, still peeing, “A lecture, a fine, couple of days, maybe community service—a wrist slap.”

“What if—?” Ainsley asked.

“Here,” Ifor said, pointed.

They walked off the path, onto the grass, around several bushes, where Ifor pointed again as he sat on his knees. Ainsley sat cross–legged in front of him.

“You’re certainly…” Ainsley drifted off.

“Human,” Ifor said, “I’m a human boy, you can tell because I’ve got this—” he pointed to his hard cock jutting toward her. “In case you didn’t figure that out.”

Ainsley snorted, snickered, with her eyes on his hard dick.

“We’re human animals,” Ifor said, “Born naked, and will be once again when they remove our clothes in the medical examiner’s office or the morgue. We evolved like this, there’s no shame in being human. My dick is, well, a dick, and that I like you isn’t something to be ashamed of either.”

“Are you sure about this police thing?” Ainsley said, “You’re not sounding like a cop.”

“Jaimie’s idea—ludicrous,” Ifor said, “But to be myself, that has appeal. I spent weeks with this penis hanging out with Risley and Grant. We learned to be ourselves, to trust our friends with…with us. We all stink in ways, but the friendship is worth more than that. To me, Grant and Risley are now brothers, not by blood, but in friendship, and I’ll treasure that to the end of my days.”

“All naked?” Ainsley said, “All the time?”

“Yes, we were,” Ifor replied, “Risley could sketch my ass better than I could myself, but I don’t care. Grant knew when I had to take a leak before I knew it myself. Some secrets melt away, others, you hold on tighter. And, before long, you wonder why you didn’t try it sooner.”

“You’re may be bullshitting,” Ainsley said, “But you’re making it sound romantic, to fall in love with being naked. Are you sure you don’t want to try out Jaimie’s idea. Worst case, you come back after it blows over.”

“Tempting, but I’ve already been declared dead once,” Ifor said.

“You survived,” Ainsley said.

“There was a corpse,” Ifor said, “Somebody else they thought was me, but he didn’t make it back.”

“You do like this,” Ainsley said, “I need to…”

“I peed, you pee,” Ifor said, “See how I like it—here.”

Ifor brought her hands to his hard erection, she curled her fingers, felt it.

“You’re…” Ainsley said, her fingers massaged along his dick.

Ifor kept his focus on the pink within her forest, watched as the yellow sprayed out. Seconds later, Ifor smelled it, the odor, and felt the spasms. A quench and a surge, the pulsations sent out the fountain of off–white into her fingers.

“See?” Ifor said, “It’s fine with me.”

“Mind?” Ainsley asked as her fingers felt his balls.

“Those make…it’s what came out,” Ifor said.

“Cool,” Ainsley said, “You’re totally cool with this?”

“Yeah,” Ifor said, “If you’re a friend I can trust, then I can trust you with these, right?”

“Suppose that’s a way,” Ainsley said, she glanced at the fading light, “Should get back.”

Ifor stood, his slit oozed a bit more.

“Don’t care, do you?” Ainsley asked.

“Nope,” Ifor said, “Well, actually I do, so long as you accept me for who I am.”

Ifor extended a hand, helped her stand.

“I’m not sure police could handle you,” Ainsley said as they began to walk.

“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” Ifor said.

They stopped at their shirts and shorts and her panties on the grass. She reached, felt a couple strands of his pubic hair.

“Are you sure about that?” Ainsley asked as his erection returned. “Seriously, think about what you want to do.”

Ifor handed her his green shirt, she put it on, left the buttons unbuttoned. He slipped on his green shorts.

“I need a better option,” Ifor admitted, “Got any?”

“Wrestling?” Ainsley asked as they crossed the parking lot.

“I can come out on top, but I wasn’t the best in school,” Ifor said, “I mean, take Grant, plumbing? Or Risley as an engineer?”

“Don’t dismiss that,” Ainsley said as they boarded the eastbound train, “Our lives didn’t used to be so tightly controlled by our parents. Fact you’ve got hair on your balls was enough in older times to be in charge of your own fate.”

“You noticed those?” Ifor asked.

“You showed them to me,” Ainsley said, “You show, I see, and I remember it.”

The light rail crossed the Willamette River.

“We missed your stop,” Ainsley said as the train rode past it.

Ifor pressed the stop button.

“Taking you to yours,” Ifor said, glancing at the nipples bared from the two sides of his green shirt on her, “Home after that.”

“Sweet of you,” Ainsley said as they got off. She glanced at him, bare chested, as they began to walk along.

“I remember the pizza,” Ifor said.

“That?” Ainsley said, “It was gross.”

“Oh,” Ifor muttered.

“But the look on your face—worth it,” Ainsley said.

Ifor laughed.

“Even the gross in friends is worth celebrating,” Ifor said as they reached the white house with a broad roof, “Catch you tomorrow.”

“Sorry, me and Peace…” Ainsley said, “Tuesday?”

“Sure,” Ifor said.

She kissed him on the cheek before she walked around the house. Ifor, though, aimed, bare chested, for Briarwood Avenue.

* * *

Dorcia heard the shower start up, her stomach rumbling, and she walked naked into the small brown carpeted kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, smelled the expired Chinese take out, searched for the pizza.

“Nice,” came the voice.

Dorcia froze, felt the hands that touched her rumps.

“Danny—stop!” Dorcia said.

“I was going to play with myself,” Danny said, “But I remembered the whore of my sister—well, you’re available.”

“Care for a knife?” Dorcia snapped.

“Poor Wally,” Danny said, “To spill his bride’s blood in vain?”

Dorcia felt the hand firm on the back of her neck, the reminder that he was in control, as he pushed her head down, bent at the hips. Two loose testicles dangled between her legs, his legs behind her, and she felt the invader enter; his hard cock buried itself inside her.

“Practice makes perfect,” Danny said.

She felt the suction as he flexed

“Best bitch in the house!” Danny shouted.

Another fuck and the front door fell off its hinges as the man, their Dad entered.

“Dorcia!” her Dad yelled.

“She’s seducing me!” Danny said as he held his dick inside her.

Dorcia felt the surge of warmth, the pulsations, as Danny ejaculated inside her.

“Stand up!” her Dad yelled at Dorcia.

Danny pulled out, she stood up, faced her Dad despite the white dripping from her vulva and Danny’s circumcised softening dick.

SLAP!

Her Dad’s hand smacked against her left breast, and she let out a brief howl from the stinging sensation.

“She forced me,” Danny said, “Maybe it’s the devil?”

“Good idea,” their Dad said, “Look sweetie, maybe that’s the explanation, get the sin test—should be one in the bathroom.”

“I’ll get it,” Danny said as he left.

“On the counter,” her Dad said, “Now.”

Dorcia sat, spread her legs, as she knew the inspection was about to happen.

“Down to our last one,” Danny said as he brought out the small box; still naked.

Her Dad opened it, pulled out a plastic wand, before he surveyed her vulva. He grabbed the dish sponge, wiped away the excess semen.

“You know what you have to do,” their Dad said.

“Pee,” Danny said, “Can I watch?”

“Good to know why girls can’t pee standing up,” their Dad said, “It leads to an eternity of arguing about the toilet seat.”

“Come on Sis,” Danny said, “Do it before bedtime.”

Her father and brother had done what Risley, Ifor, and Grant had avoided, made her ashamed of herself, as she summoned the strength to get this over with. Her Dad dipped the end of the white plastic into her golden shower, urine that soaked onto the carpet beneath her.

“Clean up your mess,” their Dad said as he shook the plastic, “Yes, as feared—” he showed the lines, a pink appeared next to the red.

“Devil’s actually coming into her?” Danny said, “Don’t make me slit her throat.”

“There’s…” their Dad pulled a tablet out of the box, “Take and you’ll be forgiven.”

Dorcia took the yellowish white pill, swallowed it, chased it down with water.

“I’ll call the reverend in the morning,” their Dad said, “Have him help with the exorcism, see what your cousin says.”

Dorcia went back to her bedroom, still hungry, curled on her bed. She wondered about her chat, if any of her friends could help her; her trek to Alaska had already interfered as she had heard that Oyster and DickSnot had shown up in person, but that was no longer an option. She’ll miss Oyster’s conversations, and the other boys—ones that treated her far, far, better than her brother did.

“Sorry about that,” Danny said as he entered.

“Go away!” Dorcia barked.

Dorcia felt the fingers invade her blankets, felt her vulva, stimulated her clitoris.

“Know you like this,” Danny said, “No hard feelings, okay?”

“Then cut it off!” Dorcia snapped.

“Whore!” Danny snapped.

Dorcia trembled a bit more, a true monster above her, one that the police simply dragged her back to, trapped her. Her stomach turned, wondered if death was a more attractive option as she went to sleep.

* * *

Monday, August 10th

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Ifor tried to ignore it, stay on his bed Monday morning.

“IFOR!” came the holler from outside.

Miffed, Ifor walked down his stairs, through the living room, to the front door.

“What?!” Ifor demanded as he opened it. On the porch, the lady mail carrier blushed as his genitals with his soft penis were in full view beneath his fluffy brown pubic hair. Her truck parked along the street of empty lawn chairs.

“Are you Ifor Lovell Ulverston?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ifor spat, “Who’d send me mail?”

“Signature required—from you,” she said.

Ifor grabbed the pen, signed on the receipt, and she handed over a letter, addressed to him with the green and silver logo of the Wild Trekkers on the upper left.

“Good day,” she said as she left.

“Ifor!” came Risley’s hollers as he ran up the steps, a similar yet opened envelope clutched in his hands.

Risley came in and Ifor closed the front door. White shirt, purple underwear that hinted at the dick behind it, Risley held up the envelope as he dropped his underwear.

“What—?” Ifor asked.

“Read it,” Risley said as he pulled his shirt off, “Upstairs.”

“Do I want to read it?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Risley said, “But you need to.”

Risley carried his clothes up the stairs with Ifor, entered Ifor’s green bedroom. Risley bolted the door closed, before he shook his penis toward Ifor. Ifor watched the flesh shake, his penis stiffened; he tapped his tablet with his erection. As the screen came to life, Ifor opened his letter, read.

Dear Mr. Ifor Lovell Ulverston.

We regret to inform you that you have been permanently expelled from the Wild Trekkers due to unhealthy lifestyle choices. This verdict cannot be appealed. You are hereby notified that you cannot participate in any Wild Trekker meeting, camping trip, or activity. Any attempt to associate yourself with the Wild Trekkers will necessitate unfavorable consequences.

“Mine read the same,” Risley said, “As Grant’s working with his Dad, doubt he’s read his.”

“Unhealthy lifestyle choices?” Ifor asked.

“Dunno,” Risley said, “I’m as confused as you on that.”

A flashing notification showed on the tablet’s desktop. Ifor tapped his hard dick against it.

“Maev’s on,” Risley said.

Maev’s image came up, trees behind her with her nipples at the bottom of the frame.

“Where’s the third—Grant?” Maev asked.

“Working,” Risley said, “Sixteen, with a job rooting around in other people’s business.”

“How’s Dorcia?” Ifor asked.

“Depressed,” Maev said, “Don’t send her flowers, while it’d lift her spirits, it’d only make things worse for her. Her Dad caught Danny raping her, in the kitchen.”

“Can we cut off his balls?” Ifor asked.

“He blamed her,” Maev said, “So, he administered a sin–test, any guesses to what that’d be?”

“Sinful?” Risley asked.

“Bingo,” Maev said, “Exorcism time.”

“Painful,” Risley stated.

“Rushed the wedding plans,” Maev said, “October once another sin–test comes up clean.”

“We’ll be there,” Ifor said.

“See what I can do—no promises,” Maev said, “How are you doing?”

“Expelled from the Wild Trekkers,” Risley said.

“Really?” Maev said, “You seemed like models for them—”

“Models for expulsion.” Ifor reread his letter.

“Hate to be right here,” Maev said, “It sort of confirms—I’m being called, later. Love you.”

Maev’s image vanished.

“Right about what?” Risley asked.

“She had a hunch,” Ifor said as he studied Risley’s soft penis dangling there, “More going on than simply camp, we skipped and pissed somebody off—more than our parents.”

“Should’ve said something!” Risley said.

“And said what?” Ifor said, “Those girls found us after your mother showed up to camp, it was already too late.”

“You didn’t know that,” Risley said.

“Even if it wasn’t,” Ifor said, “Explaining why our faces changed? No, it was too late, better for us to enjoy the time we had left, pay the price later. Sorry for not telling you.”

“Yeah, alright, I likely would’ve done the same,” Risley said, “Who did we piss off?”

“Whoever got us expelled,” Ifor said as he held up his letter, “Or, arranged for those picketers outside? Or muted our return—Boys lost in Alaska found, full story at eleven! If our send–off got into our news, our return definitely should have. No, Donald hinted at it, we royally pissed somebody off.”

“Wonder—” Risley started.

“It’s sinful when a man loves a man like he ought to love his wife,” came a loud speech from outside, “On this, you and I are in agreement with God and Christ, for it says in Leviticus that this is an abomination, to be killed, and their blood is upon them.

“This is Aubley Wurtz, for the Sermon Hour. Before our messages, a quick word about Mary’s Bible Repair Service —”

Ifor walked over, Risley with him, to the blinds of his bedroom window. Ifor spread the horizontal slats enough to see the large speakers setup on the sidewalk.

“What the—?” Risley stammered.

Ifor grabbed his phone from his desk, disabled the camera, and dialed; his penis softened as he waited.

“Captain Sefton?” Ifor asked as soon as it picked up.

“Speaking,” the Captain said, her image came to his phone.

“Seems they,” Ifor said, “Can you hear it? It’s coming through the walls.”

“I’ll look into this,” the Captain said.

“Thank you,” Ifor said.

Connection terminated.

“Maybe my Dad’s war documentaries will drone it out?” Risley asked.

“Now, take the wild story from Friday,” Wurtz said, “Three boys from Portland were supposedly rescued from the backcountry of Alaska, when in truth, they were yanked from the quagmire of their own making. Apparently, they were found naked in the woods, so that must mean that it was completely, and utterly, Sodom and Gomorrah.”

“We keep silent—they do,” Risley said, “Or so I thought the deal was.”

Ifor’s phone rang, Risley answered it.

“Hello? … Hi, it’s Risley as he’s indisposed. … Yes … Um, it is a residential area. …. Yeah, it sucks. … Understood.” Risley hung up.

“You!” Ifor said.

“Captain Sefton said they had a permit,” Risley said, “It’s legal.”

“Any guesses to who issued that?” Ifor asked.

“And, as rumor has it,” Aubley Wurtz said, “These boys were not lost souls from the pinnacle for most, the Beacon of Light Youth Camp. These boys shunned the most holy of religious experiences that one can receive on this continent, and embarked on pure debauchery. Did they encounter the devil—likely worshiped him as they should’ve done to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

Knock! Knock!

It came from downstairs.

“Ignore it,” Ifor said.

Risley peeked out of the blinds.

“It’s—come,” Risley said.

Ifor followed down the stairs, Risley hid behind the door as he opened it. Ifor saw it, the rather large box on the steps, addressed to him. A shriek, and Ifor realized he was naked on the front porch, a camera aimed at him. Ifor spun around, bent over, spread his legs and mooned them.

“Portland Police,” Aubley’s sermon continued, “Having already known the godlessness of these boys, nonetheless, squandered billions of your dollars to chase on a handful of homosexual delinquents. You should tell the commissioner and the mayor exactly how disgusted you feel about all this.”

Ifor began to open the box, on the steps.

“Could be rigged,” Risley said, his eyes peeking through the pie sections of glass on the door.

“It’s why I’m doing it out here,” Ifor said.

Inside the box, his backpack, dirty, but his.

“What?” Risley stammered.

“Obviously,” Wurtz said, “Their families are grateful, but they ought to be afraid, very afraid, because their sons are not going to join them in heaven.”

Ifor lifted his backpack, carried it inside, and Risley closed the door. Ifor opened the next door, carried it down the stairs into the half–basement, where the music and noise from the speakers was muffled by the concrete foundation on the front side of the house. Risley grabbed the attached note, read it.

Dear Ifor Lovell Ulverston,

Some participants in the annual bear survey happened to have discovered where you carelessly dropped your possessions. Consider this your official warning not to litter in the state of Alaska.

Sincerely,

Captain Elliot Mack Shrader, Chief and head Sheriff, Landcastle, Alaska.

Ifor smiled as he opened his backpack, the contents, including his pocket knives, were still in it.

“Check it again,” Risley said as he sat on the edge of the pool table.

“You’re acting suspicious,” Ifor said.

“Alaska’s freaking huge, it’s why it’s great for hiking,” Risley said, “You know, I think…” he glanced over the note. “We knew where these were or a good idea but knew the odds were against us.”

“And they’d have sophisticated equipment for counting bears,” Ifor said.

“Are you that naive?” Risley said as he leaned on the table, “They knew where to look because those hounds had tracking collars, and I wager mine is sitting in a nice box on my doorstep, same with Grant’s. It’d explain a lot.”

“I’m listening,” Ifor said.

“Irwin and this Shrader are a pair,” Risley said, “From what you said of Donald Faucher and how he pushed us to leave, not caring about our dicks being out, he suspects it too. Irwin flew us in, intimidated us into scattering because he wanted to make a sport of killing us. For whatever reason, he had a change of heart after planting the evidence, or wanted to wait for a better time. Mom flies in—unexpected to us and to them, but she did. This Shrader and Irwin panic, setting up the other remains before releasing the hounds on us. Dorcia announced to the world we’re alive, a deal is cut, and Captain Shrader saves the day. We’re flown out as fast as possible, personally escorted out of the state, and Captain Shrader comes out smelling like a rose.”

“You know,” Ifor said, “That makes sense.”

“Those dogs, well trained, with tracking collars,” Risley said, “After he picked us up, all they’d have to do is follow the history, find the collars and our backpacks. I’m guessing returning those is the final detail, makes him seem like a nice guy.”

“How much does the detective know?” Ifor asked.

“Enough to spook this Shrader person,” Risley said as his hand swooped across the note, brought his right foot up onto the table.

Ifor’s eyes ensnared themselves, the two soft balls above the anus, the penis that dangled toward the hip below the thick of the brown pubic hair.

“You’re doing it again,” Risley said as Ifor’s dick ratcheted upward.

“You’re sexy when you’re brilliant,” Ifor said, “Can’t help it.”

Ifor moved to climb on the pool table, laid on his friend, their balls against each other, Ifor’s hard dick pressed against Risley’s stomach.

“Can’t get enough of me,” Risley said.

“I’m not hiding from you,” Ifor said, “Took me a trek to find myself, lose the shame, so I refuse to let those outside rob me of it. I haven’t finished exploring, I’d like to continue, with you.”

“Ainsley?” Risley asked.

“Her too,” Ifor replied.

“Do I have a choice?” Risley asked.

“Always,” Ifor replied.

“I’d like to see this too,” Risley stated.

“Deal,” Ifor said.

Ifor felt the hands that held their balls together, his scrotum against Risley’s. Ifor reached between their stomachs, across both crops of pubic hair brushing his hand, held Risley’s soft penis.

Pfffpt!

They laughed, sat up next to each other. Ifor’s right hand reached over, teased Risley’s soft penis into an erection, and held it.


	34. Coast

Tuesday, August 11th

“Risley!” came the holler.

Risley came out, white sleeveless shirt, blue shorts.

“It’s a work environment!” Alyce snapped as he reached the blue sedan.

“I’ll stay home,” Risley said.

“In the car,” Alyce said.

Risley got into the front seat, put his bare feet onto the dash.

“Smarten up!” Alyce said as she began to drive along Strawberry Street.

“Drop me off at the airport,” Risley said, “I could go for a hike—”

“NO!” Alyce said, “We’re not going through that again!”

Risley clipped his toenails.

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to become a civil engineer,” Alyce said, “It’s a noble profession and honorable work—see what God’s allowed us to build.” She pointed at the large Fremont Bridge with its steel tied arches.

“Built over a hundred years ago,” Risley said, “Must’ve been a teenager to witness it.”

“Risley!” Alyce snapped.

“It’s okay, I suppose,” Risley said, “Ifor’s going to the police academy, I’d like to join him.”

“Visit him on the weekends,” Alyce said.

“Visit me on the weekends,” Risley retorted.

“You’ll see how exciting this can be,” Alyce said as she took the off–ramp, “Your mind will be changed by this evening.”

“Wonderful,” Risley muttered, his head against the car window as the painted white stripes passed them by.

* * *

Ifor took the fast step, rushed for the front door, hid behind it as he opened it. Ainsley was there in her lavender T–shirt and shorts, Aubley’s Sermon Hour played from the speakers.

“Good,” Ifor said, “Come in.”

Ainsley blushed as she entered, her eyes on Ifor standing naked behind the door, his fluffy brown pubic hair, the foreskin wrapped tip of his soft penis, the nipples on his chest.

“Your message sounded ominous,” Ainsley said as Ifor closed the door.

“SINNERS REPENT!” came the holler.

“I wanted to get out of here,” Ifor said.

“Florida?” Ainsley asked.

“No, Seaside?” Ifor said, “Short day trip to the coast. I know Grant wanted to go, but he’s working.”

“Um…” her eyes focused on the tip of his dick, “Sure.”

Ifor bolted the front door, went down the stairs into the half–basement. The air handler kicked in as Ifor opened the basement door.

“Shouldn’t you get…dressed?” Ainsley asked.

“Nah,” Ifor said, motioning her to pass, “Clothes are overrated.”

Ifor set the spring, closed the door, and heard the lock engage. Ifor paused to pee on the grass.

“You’re an animal,” Ainsley said.

“It waters the lawn, why bother with the toilet?” Ifor said as he went over to the green and silver pickup truck, “But I don’t want to piss in here.”

Ifor opened the passenger side first, pointed, and she got in. He crossed back over to the driver’s side, opened the door, and got in. He pressed his foot on the clutch and twisted the key already in the ignition.

“Driving naked?” Ainsley asked as the engine came to life.

“It’s why—” Ifor patted the clothes in the middle bench, a pair of shorts and his shirt, over top of his wallet and phone, “Drive safer to avoid getting pulled over.”

“Of course, of course, wild trekker,” Ainsley said, “Be prepared, those protesters might see you.”

“Naked with a girl?” Ifor said, as he backed the truck into a tight turn, “Nah, I need to be caught like this—when I return.”

Ifor pulled on the lever, let off the brake, and drove to the right, off the backyard, onto the side street, away from them.

“Yes, your trek changed you,” Ainsley said, “I don’t think you’re cut out for this world anymore.”

“What you’d suggest?” Ifor said, “Strap myself on top of some rocket?”

“Maybe you should think it over,” Ainsley said, “Wake me in Seaside.”

Ainsley yawned, curled up as she fell to sleep. Ifor glanced the arches of the Fremont bridge as he crossed it, he remembered tagging it with Risley. Took the exit for US-26 west, drove through the tunnel beneath the West Hills of Portland, and continued along the Sunset Highway.

…

Ifor’s erection stiffened over the edge of the leather bench seat as he slowed down to make the left turn onto Broadway in Seaside.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Ainsley said.

“Why?” Ifor asked as he made the turn.

“You’re hard up and naked about to enter a family entertainment area,” Ainsley said, “There’s a grocery store, stop there.”

Ifor made a left into a parking lot, turned around, and came back out to the light. A right and a left, he pulled into the parking lot, stayed near the edge.

“Unless you want to dress,” Ainsley said.

“I’m good,” Ifor said.

Ainsley got out.

Ifor grabbed his phone, let it scan his dick, before he tapped, replaced his avatar with his hard dick, pressed save. He began to search Clatsop County beaches.

“Hi,” Ainsley said as she opened the door a while later. Several plastic bags on the floor between them, and she closed the door. “Whatchya doing?”

“It’s not like I’m an expert,” Ifor said, “Got the spot.”

“Good,” Ainsley said, “We’re ready.”

Ifor pulled out of the parking lot, drove north along US-101. After a few turns, Ifor drove as far along as he could, until Jetty Road was closed with a large barricade. On the other side, the road had been partially washed away. Ifor parked and they got out. Wisps of clouds above, sun on his skin.

“How safe?” Ainsley asked.

“Safe for people,” Ifor said, “Not cars. Feeling up to the dare?”

“If we get caught—” Ainsley started as she pulled off her T–shirt, the nipples and her breasts hung out.

“Lets loiter long enough so we do,” Ifor said, “Get into real trouble with the old man—might even kill me.”

“Make that death certificate real?” Ainsley asked as she dropped her shorts.

Ifor studied the smooth skin between her legs, and his erection returned.

“You cut it?” Ifor asked.

“Which did you prefer?” Ainsley asked.

“Hadn’t considered that,” Ifor said.

“Here,” Ainsley said as she handed over one of the bags.

Ifor carried it and they walked around the barricade; she brought the bag. Sand on the vanishing road went between Ifor’s toes with each step.

“You did this for weeks?” Ainsley asked.

“Hardest minute is the first, hardest hour is the first,” Ifor said, “In two hours, you’re alright with it, and a week later you’re wondering what the fuss was about.”

A wave crashed onto the boulders from the ocean, one that failed to approach the remains of the jetty. Ifor caught Ainsley’s glancing at his hard cock jutting out. Ifor took a thought, forced it, and yellow squirted out as he peed.

“Totally barbarian,” Ainsley said, “No concern.”

“Goes into the ocean,” Ifor said, “No big deal.”

“I meant—” Ainsley said.

“On pizza?” Ifor asked.

“That was disgusting,” Ainsley said, “Now I know.”

They came to a bit of sand, between the rocks and the tattered road, set down the bag and the cooler. Ifor turned toward her as he stretched.

“Going to piss again?” Ainsley asked.

“Weeks with it hanging out and no pants to worry about,” Ifor said, “Became easier to let it drip and drop where ever I was, though still careful when it came to Grant. Risley and I…had a game going instead.”

Ainsley pulled out a disposable grill, opened the lid to show a bed of charcoal.

“Oh,” Ifor said, as he glanced into the bag he had, the package of hotdogs along with buns and small bottles of ketchup, mustard, beneath the sour onion potato chips.

“Figured a picnic,” Ainsley said.

Ifor sat down cross–legged, his hard cock jutted forward. He pressed the plastic tab, tossed it onto the charcoal, which started to light up.

“Know SprinterWV from chat?” Ifor asked.

“Her?” Ainsley said, “Think so.”

Ifor tore at the hotdog package with his teeth, his fingers twisted to rip it open.

“Risley told her about our hike, so she came,” Ifor said as he put the hot dogs onto the grill, “Bumped into us.”

“She’s the one who spotted you?” Ainsley asked.

“Had a sprained ankle, so I was at our base camp,” Ifor said, “Apparently he and her hit it off well, minutes after they met up, they fucked and he lost his virginity.”

“Fast,” Ainsley said.

“She was naked too,” Ifor said. He studied Ainsley’s chest, the nipples her hair threatened to hide, the shallow mounds.

“You’re infectious,” Ainsley said.

“To accept myself, to be myself, my skin is me,” Ifor said, “I learned to be me. Risley and Grant, we explored ourselves, together. With Dorcia—her name, and her friend Maev, it helped us continue that exploration. Without a wall to hide behind, it was shared. I know…” Ifor paused. “Grant is jealous, a little bit, that me and Risley have foreskins, that we weren’t circumcised like he was. Risley, like me, likes watching girls piss.”

“You’re serious?” Ainsley asked.

Ifor used a plastic fork, turned the dogs, smelled the aroma, while a bit of ocean spray came across them.

“And more,” Ifor said, “Maybe its the animals within us, pretending we’re not. Maybe its the trust to accept that side of ourselves, or the fact you show yourself doing the act, not sure. Peeing’s a fast way to get my boner, fast way to get this to…ejaculate.”

“Anything more?” Ainsley asked.

“I put myself into the hands of my friends,” Ifor said, “Leap of faith in seeing, handling me, naked. In the end, I’d rather be naked with my friends than anything else. I learned that my friends are beautiful, inside and outside, even when they’re taking a dump.”

“Eww,” Ainsley said, “Biggest secret?”

“Besides knowing their balls?” Ifor said, “We’re naked in the wilderness together, so they know my boner.”

He put the first hot dog into a bun, handed it to her.

“Your protesters objected?” Ainsley asked as she applied mustard and ketchup to her hotdog.

Ainsley bit into it, ate.

“They’re making assumptions,” Ifor said, “One sleeping bag that was too small for all of us—so, yes, they’ve had their balls on me, and mine onto them, couldn’t be helped, and it broke down barriers. You see, Grant thought it good to skimp, we brought two, but one was stolen; when you’re in the wilderness, you use what you have, and a shared sleeping bag meant we never got cold in our sleep.”

“That’s totally…” Ainsley said.

Ifor put mustard on the second hot dog, ate.

“We shared ourselves,” Ifor said, “Means I know their bodies as well as them, having seen them piss, crap, and jerk off. We became brothers in a way, bonded, and accepted ourselves for who we are.”

“Do you like me?” Ainsley asked, her eyes on the soft penis between his legs.

“I’m naked with you,” Ifor said, “But if you’re doubting, take a leak and see.”

A sputter, a squirt, the shower from her began, and his erection stiffened.

“That’s…” Ainsley started.

“Being naked means I can’t hide it,” Ifor said, as his fingers curled around his stiff cock, “Nor do I want to, guess that was a lesson too.”

Ifor moved over on his knees, brought his lips to hers, and they kissed.

“You’re—you were handsome that time at Bible Study,” Ainsley said, “I cried when they said you died.”

“Got better,” Ifor said as he brought his lips back to hers, his tongue touched hers, they kissed again. “What’s handsome about me?”

She laid down, Ifor straddled her head.

“Face, the chest, the way you carry yourself,” Ainsley said, “And yes, these have charm.” She caressed his testicles, felt in, examined the slight shift color where his scrotum transitioned from a darker pink in front to a fleshy skin tone on the back.

“Gorgeous,” Ainsley said, “All summer?”

“About,” Ifor said.

“I agree, ought to be criminal to hide them,” Ainsley said, “Got hair here too.”

“I like them out too,” Ifor said.

“Obvious,” Ainsley said.

“My skin is who I am,” Ifor said, “To hide my skin is to hide me.”

Ifor moved back and up on his knees. Ainsley’s fingers felt his pubic hair, his hard shaft.

“They cut this off?” Ainsley asked as she felt his foreskin.

“Yep,” Ifor said as he remembered a passage from the Penis Handbook, “Cutting it off is like volunteering to go color blind. Need a better look?”

Ifor flexed his hips, rotated himself, gave her both sideviews.

“You lost every sense of shame,” Ainsley said.

“But I still need validation,” Ifor said.

Ainsley snorted, laughed.

“I’m serious,” Ifor said, “Like them?”

“Yes,” Ainsley said.

Ifor held her shoulders, a nudge, and she leaned back. Ifor moved forward, onto his hands and knees, over her head on the sand.

“If it were up to me, it ought to be a crime against nature to cover up,” Ifor said, “But no, it’s illegal to be naked, flouted like speeding in the home, but technically illegal with no exemption even for a shower.”

Ifor’s nipples pressed against her breasts, her nipples against his chest.

“Ought to be criminal to hide…passion,” Ifor said as he kissed her.

Tongues explored into mouths, Ifor’s hands explored her breasts while her hands felt his loose balls and hard cock. Her hard point, her clitoris, went across his foreskin as the dick slid, his tip rested against her smooth petals. Her fingers worked into his balls, and his dick bounced across her erect clitoris before it settled into the valley between the lace of her folds. Ifor pushed, his hard erection plunged between her legs, buried itself in the warmth beyond inside her. Suction formed with a pull before he pushed again.

“Um—IFOR!” Ainsley barked as she pushed him upward.

Ifor’s stiff erection nearly yanked out as he sprung back.

“What?!” Ifor stammered.

“You’re not protected,” Ainsley groveled.

“A little bit of sunburn—” Ifor started.

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Ainsley said, “Sit!”

Ifor sat on his knees in front of her, his unused hard cock jutted forward.

“Babies come from pregnancy,” Ainsley said, “Pregnancy comes from having sex!”

Ifor stared at her.

“What do you think it’s all for?” Ainsley said, “They don’t teach nothing anymore, but Gretel’s put up a short video because it’s come up with their Ark. When your penis fires—the white stuff, inside me, I become pregnant.”

“Every time?” Ifor asked, his thoughts went to Dorcia and Maev. His penis shrunk as it went soft, and sat on his butt.

“Not every time, but you’re rolling the dice each time,” Ainsley said, “Could be the first try or not after fifty tries. Time of the month matters as my period seems to influence it, but you’re risking pregnancy when you have unprotected sex—it’s called that because we’ve taken no measures to prevent pregnancy. Mind you, any measure, outside of abstinence, is illegal”

“Penis Handbook—maybe I missed that section,” Ifor said.

“The what?” Ainsley asked.

“Illegal book of Grant’s that we had on the hike,” Ifor said, “We read it, which described many ways to use my dick.”

“Sex is fun and enjoyable—why?” Ainsley said, “Evolution.”

“That’s not supposed to be—” Ifor said as he brought his feet close, his knees rose to his elbows.

“I do believe in it,” Ainsley said, “I know we’re not supposed to believe it, but I do. Can you imagine a species evolving with painful sex? Sex is pleasurable because that’s nature’s way to encourage us to procreate.”

Ifor hummed for a moment as he mulled those words, a breaker crashed on the rocks, and the water spray got onto them.

“Hadn’t considered that, makes sense,” Ifor said, “I fell hook, line, and sinker.”

“Kids with you feels right, so I want to go through with it,” Ainsley said, “But I can’t be pregnant for the Ark.”

“You’re going?” Ifor asked.

“Dunno, uncertain,” Ainsley said, “You?”

“It’d mean leaving a lot behind,” Ifor said, “And what are the odds of all of us going. Cody won’t—shouldn’t. Risley and Grant—maybe. However, as they’re joining me at the academy—”

“An academy that you seemed set against before the summer,” Ainsley said.

“You don’t trek naked for weeks and not feel something,” Ifor said, “Good friends became brothers, better siblings than Nessa or Marcia or Blake. As to the rest of the study, got you—and the others?”

“Waiting for your lead,” Ainsley said, “They look up to you.”

“Whole blasted idea is risky and far fetched,” Ifor said, “Leave the Earth? What are they smoking in Florida?”

“Only the best,” Ainsley replied.

Ifor laughed.

“Join us at the academy,” Ifor said, “They’re eager for recruits and we can reshape the Portland Police, give it that human touch.”

Ainsley stared at his pubic hair.

“I’ll think about it,” Ainsley said, “Be good for that law degree I’d like to go for.”

“One of the few educational pursuits remaining,” Ifor said.

“Well, everybody needs some training,” Ainsley said, “Else, where’d we get the people to design new bridges?”

“Nothing creative—it’s all been done before,” Ifor said, “Risley’s not too thrilled about his mother’s plans to have him follow her, but I think he’s talking her into letting him start the police academy instead. Doesn’t actually have to be the police, I don’t want to leave him or Grant behind.”

“You love them?” Ainsley asked.

“Always,” Ifor said, “Suppose we’d have to be careful at the academy, else people get the wrong impression.”

Ainsley glanced back at Ifor’s crotch.

“Blue balls,” Ifor said.

“Huh?” Ainsley said.

“What we call it when we’re anticipating, yet it doesn’t happen,” Ifor said, “Are they really blue?”

“Oh,” Ainsley said, “Gretel did mention something else…ah…”

Ainsley pushed on Ifor’s chest, and he leaned back. She knelt halfway along his calves and bent over. Her hands cradled his balls while her tongue touched his foreskin. Her tongue worked around the lip of skin, and he stiffened.

“Sure,” Ifor said, figured it a reasonable compromise, though the odd sand hump beneath his back forced his head to stare upward at the mostly sunny sky.

Her tongue worked along the ridge underneath his hard dick, along the upper side, before her mouth surrounded and let his erection dock into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around his shaft. Sun on his chest, her fingers teasing his balls, Ifor felt the animal that he was. A spasm, a quench, and a release, the pulsation went through him as he ejaculated. She giggled. It was another moment before he summoned the strength to prop himself up on his elbows, where his semen was evenly balanced between the lip under her nose and his pubic hair.

“Should’ve warned me,” Ainsley said.

“Even after weeks of playing with it, still don’t have the knack down,” Ifor said, “Speech is lost when it goes.”

“Oh,” Ainsley said.

“You did wonderful,” Ifor said,

“Do have rehearsal tonight,” Ainsley said, “Aunt Jeanna insists.”

“I get to explain to my Dad that no, I’m not going to the Wild Trekkers meeting,” Ifor said as he crouched to dump the garbage in one of the bags.

Ainsley wiped her lip, her eyes on Ifor’s pubic hair, the white filled tip of his foreskin.

“Not going to clean?” Ainsley asked.

“Why be ashamed of what your body does?” Ifor asked.

“You’d leave a dump on yourself?” Ainsley asked.

“Then don’t shit on yourself,” Ifor said, “Dries quickly enough.”

Ifor grabbed a stick, flipped the charcoal grill over, losing burning ash until it hit the water, sizzled as wave after wave flooded it out. A moment later, he lifted the pan, brought it to their garbage bag.

“Nothing spells friendship better than having the runs and not shaming over it,” Ifor said, “Best naked if you’re having them, because no frequent stops, no messy underwear, simply let it pass and clean often.”

“Gross to think about it,” Ainsley said.

Ifor put his hands on her shoulders.

“Your friends are animals too,” Ifor said, “We all have our bad days, embrace them. They’re embarrassed by it and are leaning on you for support to get through it. After weeks, we became accustomed, second nature.”

Ifor gripped the bag of garbage in his hand, squatted.

Pfffpt!

A long chain of brown sludge moved out of Ifor.

“You’re definitely open about it,” Ainsley said.

“I saved on having to find a restroom,” Ifor said, “Fine if you need to.”

Ifor moved backward, held his penis, and peed, let the jet work at breaking up his fresh turds.

“You’re disgusting,” Ainsley said.

Ifor took a napkin, wiped his butt, and buried it into the sand.

“Best kind,” Ifor said as he stood, “Like I said, embrace yourself, and it’s amazing what happens when you let go of your inhibitions, insecurities, with your friends.”

Ifor grabbed the bag with the shell of the disposable grill; Ainsley picked up the other, and they headed back.

“You’ve certainly lost your inhibitions,” Ainsley said.

“Thank you, by the way,” Ifor said, “Know it’s not always pleasant to suck on a dick.”

“Felt a bit guilty for stopping you from—you know,” Ainsley said.

Ifor stopped them, faced her.

“Your body, your choice,” Ifor said, “I’m never entitled to it or any favor. It’s a gift, your gift to me, so long as you want to give it. I enjoyed it, and I’ll take it when you give, but never feel obligated or forced into it, understood?”

“You’re…” Ainsley started.

“Punch, hit me,” Ifor said, “What you did back there, pushing me out, was totally acceptable, because I got it wrong. If I ever fall out of line and you can’t reason with me, punch and hit until I get it, okay?”

“I wanted to go through with it,” Ainsley said, “If it weren’t for Gretel’s warning, we would have and I could’ve become pregnant. Even with her warning, I’m not sure it’s a bad thing. I simply want to form a better opinion of you before committing, in full.”

“I’m not hiding,” Ifor said.

“I see that,” Ainsley said, “And…thank you.”

They returned to the barricade, ducked underneath, put the bags on the hood of the pickup.

“It’s also nice because it puts a smile on your face,” Ifor said, “I..”

Ainsley squatted, the yellow poured out.

“Funny, it does get easier,” Ainsley said.

Ifor retracted his foreskin as her eyes watched, the slit dropped out his golden yellow in front of her.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have deliberately shown that before all this,” Ifor said, “Me, my body taking a leak, it’s not like I’ve got full control over it.”

A glint in the distance, headlights.

“Inside,” Ifor said, as he grabbed the bags.

Ainsley got into the passenger side, shoved her clothes onto the floor with the bags. Ifor started the pickup, turned around, and passed the cop a minute later.

“That was close!” Ainsley said, “They could’ve—”

“And get busted?” Ifor said, “I wouldn’t mind, but I won’t put you through it.”

“Thank you for that consideration,” Ainsley said as she slid down in the seat.

Her feet on his dash, the legs spread, with her vulva open.

“Drive carefully,” Ainsley said, “I mean, you’re naked too.”

“Naked is how it ought to be,” Ifor said.

“Maybe that Ark is for you,” Ainsley said.

“Yeah right, that’s the only reason,” Ifor said, “Still, clothes are a facade, a lie, a web of deceits to yourself, to others. Without clothes, you become yourself, and you realize your skin fits you.”

“Convert to the church of skin?” Ainsley asked.

Ifor snorted.

“Your Dad?” Ainsley asked.

“Not bringing him along!” Ifor said, “Felt…dunno, I stopped caring what he thinks, you know?”

Ainsley reached over, touched Ifor’s foreskin as they drove across the Youngs River Bridge, entered Astoria.

“Hey!” Ifor said as they went through the round about, “I need to focus!”

Ainsley pushed on the dash, moved a bit up, let her breasts ride higher as they passed underneath the much larger bridge across the big Columbia river, now on US-30.

“Cute town,” Ainsley said, glancing up the hill at the houses.

Ifor knew it illegal, still felt good as they went along, naked. Leather against his bare buttocks, his balls toasty warm between the legs, the penis on top, and his fluffy brown pubic hair out for anybody to see it. Ifor was comfortable as he obeyed the twenty mile per hour speed limit.

“Drive better naked?” Ainsley asked.

“Likely,” Ifor said, “Definitely adds encouragement to avoid…incidents.”

Ainsley chuckled as Ifor spun the wheel, took the left onto Commercial Street with its line of traffic lights.

“Any time you hated being naked?” Ainsley asked.

“Cold, wet?” Ifor said, “Sucked during the rain as I couldn’t put something on to keep warm. About it.”

“You had sex with her too?” Ainsley asked, “SprinterWV?”

“A couple of times,” Ifor said, “More of Risley and Grant there. We definitely threw our sperm around.”

“Not once did the thought of getting them pregnant crossed your mind?” Ainsley asked.

“Nope,” Ifor said, “Makes sense now, but no, it didn’t. What are those measures?”

“Dunno,” Ainsley said, “I’ll ask.”

“Trust me, for a guy, that’s the clincher,” Ifor said, “It’s the best you can do. A blowjob, while nice, sucks compared to that.”

Ainsley grabbed a comb from her purse, took out some knots from Ifor’s pubic hair. Her hand cupped it in her palm. Ifor shifted gears as the speed limit went up, drove east out of town, along the highway that hugged the four mile wide Columbia River.

Pfffpt!

“You?” Ifor asked.

“Nothing hidden, right?” Ainsley asked.

Ifor cracked the window open.

“I accept you, but I can still get some air,” Ifor said.

Ainsley snickered as she moved into the middle seat, leaned into Ifor. Ifor wrapped his right arm around her, held her as he drove. A handful of miles after they left Astoria, they drove past a sign, Svensen.

“Weird place,” Ainsley said.

“Everybody’s got something weird to them,” Ifor replied.

They traveled down the gentle incline to a long, elevated, concrete span that curved left. Ainsley glanced at the creek beneath that passed through flooded wetlands toward the river.

“Beautiful,” Ainsley said, “It’d be nice to live here—someday.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Ifor said.

Ainsley’s left fingers reached, held Ifor’s balls, while her right teased her hard point, while the pickup climbed up the straight hill, over the crest, and went steeply downhill. His erection returned while gradually leveling back up. They passed through a flashing yellow signal onto a straight, where they passed Immanuel on their left, before the road curved left as he went up into a series of sections with trees to both sides.

“Are you—?” Ifor asked.

“What’d you think?” Ainsley asked.

“Pay attention to driving first,” Ifor said, aware her fingers held his hard dick, “Tell me.”

“I can…same as you playing with yourself,” Ainsley said.

“Jacking off?” Ifor said before it occurred to him, “Oh…sorry, I should’ve done that.”

Ifor’s right arm moved, his right fingers began to massage around the sides to her vulva.

“Bit delicate,” Ainsley said.

“Go all the way to home,” Ifor said.

“Drive,” Ainsley stated.

“Here,” Ifor said as he slowed and pulled off into the small state park at the top of the hill.

“Time?” Ainsley asked as he brought the truck to a stop.

“Got plenty—three, right?” Ifor asked, setting the parking brake.

“Something like that,” Ainsley said, “She likes to leave early.”

Ifor crawled on the seat as she laid down, her head beneath his balls, as he leaned over.

“Let me know when to go,” Ifor said.

Ifor licked around her smooth lace, the folds, his fingers massaged into it. Ifor felt her fingers feeling into his loose testicles dangling over her face. More licks, before he moved his tongue into her, tasted the saltiness of her skin, still wiggled it. Fingers to her clitoris and he heard a bit of the light moans, a kiss to his dick, and Ifor returned to the driver’s seat. Ainsley turned to an angle, leaned into him, and Ifor teased her clitoris a bit more before he returned the vehicle to motion.

“Serious,” Ainsley stated, “Weren’t you?”

“It’s fair,” Ifor said, “You give to me, I give to you, and trust it’ll work itself out.”

Ifor took the left, returned to driving east on US-30, down the steep curved hill. On the straight bit, his right fingers teased her clitoris.

“Aw,” Ainsley said.

“All the way home—I promised,” Ifor said.

Ifor felt her left fingers curl back around his hard dick, kept a slow rhythmic massage into it as he drove, his right fingers into her. Ifor heard her gentle moans, the sighs, her right fingers also in her vulva.

“It’d upset Aunt Jeanna if I didn’t show up,” Ainsley said as they crossed the Columbia River into Longview, Washington. They moved east, turned right, and merged onto I-5 southbound.

A surge, a pulsation, Ifor felt the contractions, the bliss, as his hard cock squirted.

Honk!

Ifor corrected the wheel, returned to their lane.

“Sorry,” Ainsley said as she stopped.

“That was…close,” Ifor said, “Worried about getting caught? How about a wreck?”

“No, no,” Ainsley said.

“Me neither,” Ifor said, aware his dick was dripping onto the leather seat.

“Thought you couldn’t…” Ainsley started.

“Simply wait,” Ifor said, “It’ll be sore balls tonight.”

Ainsley leaned back into him, her hand held his loose testicles beneath the softening penis.

“Will this work?” Ainsley asked.

“Sure,” Ifor said, not wanting to imagine the conversation with his Dad if he wrecked the pickup over a handjob.

Ifor kept driving knowing she felt right.

* * *

An hour later, Ifor left I-5 and drove onto the streets of Portland, made his way to Briarwood Avenue. Ahead, he noticed the protesters, so he turned left a block early.

“Aw,” Ainsley said.

They went around the neighboring block, Ifor pulled into the backyard, stopped the pickup.

“We’re—!” Ainsley started as Ifor opened the door.

“Why spoil the rush?” Ifor asked as he peed onto the grass.

“Walk around to the front to take your leak,” Ainsley said, “Do it enough and you’ll get caught.”

“Lets shout and advertise,” Ifor suggested.

“I need to get home,” Ainsley said as she pulled her lavender T–shirt on first, before her shorts.

“Yeah,” Ifor said, keys in hand. He locked and closed the driver side door before he went over to the passenger side. “You want the bags?”

“Sure,” Ainsley said as she grabbed them.

Ifor locked and closed the passenger side door. He leaned over, kissed her, and she left. Ifor went to the basement door, slipped the key in, and entered.

“Hi,” said Grant, laying naked on the pool table.

“Oh,” Ifor said as he saw them, the anus and balls between the spread legs, knees up in the air, the soft penis laid to the side, “Funny you’re here.”

“Hiding,” Grant said, “Those speakers—your bedroom ain’t silent.”

Ifor leaned over the edge of the pool table, lightly squeezed Grant’s balls.

“You’re naked too?” Grant asked.

“Spent the day with Ainsley,” Ifor said, “Coast and back.”

“Should’ve invited me,” Grant said.

“It was meant for two,” Ifor said.

“Did you two—you know?” Grant asked, left fingers moved between encircled right ones.

“She—” Ifor said, “Know you could get girls pregnant with it?”

“What?!” Grant stammered.

“It’s what your penis is for,” Ifor said, “It’s to get a girl pregnant.”

“Oh—shit!” Grant exclaimed.

“Ainsley stopped me,” Ifor said, “But, yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dorcia had an announcement for us.”

“You’re sure?” Grant asked.

“No,” Ifor said, “We only pumped her full of sperm for two weeks straight.”

“Damn,” Grant said, “Guess I should get back to Dad—hope plumbing pays. Suppose this—” he grabbed Ifor’s soft penis “—is safe on me.”

“As we don’t get pregnant,” Ifor said.

“Can you…?” Grant asked.

Ifor understood, climbed on the pool table.

“Sure about things?” Ifor asked as he straddled Grant’s head.

“You’re an exception,” Grant said, “Watching you getting off on me—fun.”

Ifor leaned over, elbows on Grant’s stomach, plied into the balls, aware his dick above Grant’s head was getting hard. Ifor rubbed a bit of Grant’s wild brown pubic hair, massaged into the testicles, before he held up Grant’s penis. Ifor’s fingers teased the tough pink glans, blew air across it, as he traced it and plied into it. Ifor’s tongue moved, tasted the slit, with an aftertaste from the last use. Grant’s penis engorged itself, began to stiffen.

“At least you’re not driving,” Ifor said.

“She blew you while driving?” Grant asked.

“Hands,” Ifor said, “Nearly wrecked.”

Ifor continued, massaging, licked the side of Grant’s stiff cock, studied the ridge beneath from the base to the tip. Ifor nibbled with his teeth wrapped in his own lips.

Grant giggled.

“Yeah, you like this too,” Grant said.

Ifor knew Grant was talking about Ifor’s hard erection, one that Ifor would rather be outside than buried in underwear. Ifor’s focus was on Grant’s slender long circumcised hard shaft, the veins as they were. Ifor’s fingers worked along the shaft as he licked, treated it as a hot dog, wondered if he should warm up some mustard. Instead, Ifor caught a twitch. Ifor put the slit between his lips as the pulsing started. Grant’s scrotum contracted with pump after pump along the shaft, squirts of the hot sticky salty and meaty seed coated Ifor’s tongue. Grant relaxed.

“Oh,” said Ainsley, feet inside the basement, her eyes on Ifor pushing up onto his knees.

“It’s not—!” Ifor said, aware Grant’s semen was on his tongue, his loose balls over Grant’s face.

“It explains everything,” Ainsley said in a formal tone, “Your phone was in the bag, returning it.”

She set it down on the pool table.

“Ainsley!” Ifor said as she left.


	35. Trust

Wednesday, August 12th

“Ifor!” came the chant.

Ifor tried to ignore it, keep sleeping, but he smelled it, the musky smell, felt the breeze.

“Ifor!” came the next call as hands shook him.

Ifor opened his eyes, his shoulder against Risley’s crotch, the balls against the neck, green foliage around him, Ainsley stood over them.

“What?!” Ifor stammered.

“You wouldn’t wake,” Grant said, sitting next to them.

Ifor realized they were outside, behind the house, underneath a large leafed bush. Neither Grant nor Risley were dressed either.

“I don’t know how either,” Risley said.

“Good, deny all knowledge,” Grant said.

“What are you doing here?” Ifor asked Ainsley, she was in matching yellow shorts and T–shirt.

Together, all three boys made a rush for the back door, entered.

“Outdoor camping?” Ainsley asked, “Trying to get killed?”

“I went to sleep on my bed, alone,” Ifor said.

“Sleep walking?” Ainsley said, “Ifor, I needed to talk to you.”

“Um…sure,” Ifor said, “Bath?”

Ifor walked up the stairs, into the bathroom, closed the door behind Ainsley. Ifor stoppered up the bathtub, turned on the water. He went to the toilet, straddled it backward, his penis toward her.

“What’s up?” Ifor asked as he began to pee, and his yellow dropped.

“Spoke to Maev, she put in a good recommendation for you,” Ainsley said, “Said I didn’t know everything and should give you a second chance.”

“Well?” Ifor asked.

“You are certainly open,” Ainsley said, her eyes surveyed him, focused on the dribbling soft penis, “You’re fun to be with, though I do want an explanation for what I saw.”

Ifor stepped into the bathtub.

“Roomy enough for two,” Ifor suggested as he lowered himself into the water, “No sex as that freaks you out.”

“It’s PREGNANCY that freaks me out,” Ainsley said.

“What’d you suggest?” Ifor asked.

“First, I want the truth from you,” Ainsley said, “But I know you need incentive.” She pulled out a small brown box from her pocket. “So, I’ll put this in—in front of you.” Ainsley dropped her shorts, pulled her shirt, and she stood naked.

“You’re better without them on,” Ifor said.

Ainsley’s eyes focused to the water, to Ifor’s stiffening dick, until the erection was hard and jutted up out of the water.

“Are you sure about yourself?” Ainsley asked.

“Yep,” Ifor said, “What’s that?”

Ainsley handed the package over. Ifor opened it, a round piece of white plastic foam with a dimple to one side, a nylon loop attached to the other.

“It’s a sponge,” Ainsley said.

“What’s this do?” Ifor asked as he turned it around.

“Supposed to stop your seed,” Ainsley said, “A barrier to…you know, keeping me from getting pregnant…and that’s after you answer my question.”

“What question is that?” Ifor asked.

“You know it!” Ainsley said.

“Will this work?” Ifor asked, holding the sponge up, “How?”

“Don’t break it,” Ainsley said, “Tough enough to get, and the manufacture was massacred in May, so there are no more from them.”

“Pine Valley?” Ifor asked.

“Condoms weren’t available,” Ainsley said, “Luckily this one was already in Portland, waiting for a customer, me.”

Ainsley grabbed the sponge, turned on the water in the sink, and soaked it. She turned toward Ifor as she squatted and placed it between her folds. Her fingers pressed the sponge into her vulva, and pushed it up.

“Comfortable?” Ifor asked.

“Certainly felt it go in,” Ainsley said, “They say biggest danger is forgetting about it.”

Ifor grabbed the body wash, lathered up a washcloth, and began to scrub himself.

“Can we do it—now?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Ainsley said, “Not until we discuss what I walked in on.”

“That—not here,” Ifor said.

“We’re alone,” Ainsley said.

“Do you not hear the sermon hour?” Ifor said, “Could be closer in—no, not here.”

“Where?” Ainsley asked.

“Got an idea,” Ifor said, “If you don’t mind the drive.”

“Nothing involving your dick until I’m satisfied, okay?” Ainsley asked.

“Sure,” Ifor said, “Not planning on getting dressed, though.”

“That’s fine,” Ainsley said.

Ifor’s hands rushed the water over himself, before he stood. He pulled the plug with his toes, and grabbed his white fluffy towel.

“With my butt showing,” Ifor said, “You know I’ll try to keep it clean.”

“Good,” Ainsley said, “One positive trait.”

“It’s incentive,” Ifor said as he left the bathroom, dried himself as he crossed the living room.

Ainsley followed him down the stairs, into the basement. Ifor grabbed the keys and phone from the pool table, left the towel there, left the house.

“You don’t give a damn, do you?” Ainsley asked as Ifor put the key into the driver side lock.

“Guess I don’t,” Ifor said, glancing at her, also naked, “Get in.”

Ifor leaned over, unlocked the passenger side, and Ainsley got in. She buckled the passenger side seat belt as Ifor started the engine.

“On the plus side,” Ainsley said, “They can’t claim you’re the homosexual that you are before they stone us for adultery.”

“Let me drive,” Ifor said as they left the backyard, “Distractions—we got lucky yesterday.”

“You’re the one driving,” Ainsley said, “How far are we going?”

“Across the bridge,” Ifor said, “Know of a spot—not popular.”

Ifor knew the taboos, the laws he was breaking, as he drove them north on I-5. Fate, if caught, depended on the cop, some would laugh it off, a couple would summon the janitors, but that was rare, especially being naked with her. Cops were humans too, so the most likely outcome, if caught, would be to have to marry her. Portland was also weird, with the occasional nude bike ride, and its labor day nude parade — he could claim they were getting used to it.

“Sorry if I sound…” Ainsley said as they crossed the Columbia River, “I can’t get it out of my head, you giving Grant a blowjob.”

“On the trail, please,” Ifor said.

“We’re hiking?” Ainsley asked.

“Nothing long,” Ifor said, “I mean, we’re not prepared.”

“Have you given Risley a blowjob?” Ainsley asked.

“Yes,” Ifor said, “Can we discuss it later so I can focus on driving?”

“Sure,” Ainsley snapped.

Ifor took exit 11, headed east.

“Not exactly isolated,” Ainsley said.

“In the hills,” Ifor said.

They kept quiet for a bit, as Ifor made his way for a short while to follow a small river.

“How about here?” Ainsley asked.

“Visited,” Ifor said, “I want privacy.”

“You’re naked,” Ainsley said.

Ifor took them onto gravel, a few more miles before going up a steep incline on a narrow road, that opened up into a graveled parking area. Ifor stopped the engine, got out. He grabbed the magnetic box, stashed the key into the wheel well.

“Here?” Ainsley asked.

Around, a mixture of trees and clear cut land with stumps. Ifor led the way, past a faded marker of a trail, onto the dirt path.

“Did Risley or Grant ever blow you?” Ainsley asked.

“Yes,” Ifor said.

“So they’re correct?” Ainsley said, “I didn’t want to believe them when they called you a bunch of faggots.”

Ifor turned around.

“We’ve got them on chat!” Ifor said, “All it means is that they’re turned on, sexually, by other boys. Otherwise, they talk, act, and area other boys. DickSnot and Oyster are—haven’t seen them on since I got back, strange.”

“There was something about them on chat,” Ainsley said, “Scrolled past it.”

Ifor kept moving, Ainsley followed.

“So, you’re a faggot?” Ainsley asked, “Gay?”

“Not quite,” Ifor said as he stopped, again, “Let me explain.”

“Sure,” Ainsley said.

Ifor brought her up, they walked side by side between the trees. Ifor’s dick stiffened and his hard erection swayed as it jutted forward.

“We were naked, shared a sleeping bag, and stuck together,” Ifor said, “It meant we got to know each other really well, and we couldn’t hide. Until Dorcia and Maev showed up, all we had was us three. And Risley and Grant noticed I got my boner, a lot, compared to them. They both turned me on, Risley more so.”

“You’ve got the hots for him?” Ainsley said, “Why am I here?”

“I also had the hots for Dorcia and Maev,” Ifor said, “See, there’s more than one type of faggot. Take DickSnot and Oyster, they’re into each other and will fake it with girls. Me, I’m not faking, because I came to realize I’m into both. They turn me on and so do you.”

“Oh,” Ainsley said, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because it’d get me killed,” Ifor said, “That trek went grisly because we accidentally hired a janitorial service to fly us in.”

“That’s—?” Ainsley asked.

“It’s likely one they send faggots to,” Ifor said, “Out in the middle of nowhere, hard to find the remains unless you’ve got my determined Dad on my tail. I’d rather not be hunted like a wild animal and shot, or stabbed, or whatever way pengus have in mind for me. I should control my own destiny.”

“So, what are you?” Ainsley asked.

“Bisexual,” Ifor said, “Means best of both worlds. Means I see the beauty in my friends, and I shared that with Grant and Risley. They understand me now, us, and we shared enough that we can stomach our pride, service another. It also means that I know what it’s like to give a blowjob, I know the taste, but I also know the pleasure it gives — I willingly do it for them.”

“You did yesterday,” Ainsley said.

“That’s the big secret,” Ifor asked, “Does it help?”

“It explains a lot,” Ainsley said, “It didn’t help that you were found sans clothes, people made the assumption.”

“That pilot looted our spare clothes from that box we had shipped up,” Ifor said, “We only had one change, the ones we wore! We thought we’d save them for our return, dare to be bare, but the pilot even stole that! He shot at us as he took our spare gear. We had no option but to go forward with it, but I also learned how beautiful my friends are, and for that, there should be no shame.”

“That’s…enlightened,” Ainsley said,

They stopped, grass and flowers to either side. Ifor stepped in front of her, faced her, pointed to the erection between them, his hard cock jutting out at her.

“The question I have for you,” Ifor said, “Do you accept this?”

“Oh,” Ainsley said.

“I mean, I want to love you, as a friend,” Ifor said, “Do you want to?”

“You’re eager,” Ainsley said, “You did her too?”

“Does it matter?” Ifor said, “What matters is I’m here, now, wanting to play with you.”

Ainsley laughed.

“Here, there?” Ifor asked, “In front of your Aunt Jeanna?”

Ainsley snorted.

“That Ark is for you,” Ainsley said as she held his balls.

“Let’s keep going,” Ifor said, “Flirt with sunburn.”

“Sure,” Ainsley said.

Ifor spun and they returned to walking.

* * *

Hours later, Ifor and Ainsley returned to the pickup. Ifor felt the dry glans on his foreskin retracted hard erection.

“Thought the point was to have sex,” Ainsley said.

“Point was to spend time together,” Ifor said, “Sex, while nice—do it at Manna’s?”

“What?” Ainsley spat.

“Okay, just the drive thru,” Ifor said as he unlocked the truck.

Ifor got in, unlocked the other side.

“A boy who doesn’t want sex is definitely gay,” Ainsley said.

“Your body, your choice, “ Ifor said, “I won’t force it no matter how much I want it. There’s always tomorrow.”

Ifor started the truck, and they went down the gravel road.

“Were you serious with Manna’s?” Ainsley asked.

“I’m not ashamed of it,” Ifor said, “So, yeah, I’d be up for it. Can we do it faster than they cook our food?”

Ainsley laughed.

“I’m not as keen to getting arrested as you seem to be,” Ainsley said.

“I want to live the life I have and not be ashamed for it,” Ifor said.

Ifor drove back along the road, they came back to the town, where Ifor pulled off.

“You’re serious?” Ainsley asked.

“I’m hungry,” Ifor said, “We need something to drink.”

Ifor pulled up to the menu–board.

“Number seven chicken sandwich, make that two of them,” Ifor said, “Diets.”

Ifor tapped his phone, moved forward.

“We’re naked!” Ainsley said, “And you’re—”

“Make it interesting,” Ifor said, tapping against the erection between his legs, still working out the next detail.

“That—we ought to go to Florida,” Ainsley said, “Like, now.”

Ifor crept forward to the window. The young lady blushed as she glanced down, Ifor’s hard erection still there, jutting out from beneath his brown pubic hair.

“Adam and Eve honeymoon,” Ifor said as he took their order, “She’s making me show it.”

Ifor handed the bag, the drinks over to Ainsley, drove to a parking spot in the lot.

“You!” Ainsley said.

“Was that a bad one?” Ifor asked.

“You’ve got no certificate for that!” Ainsley said, “Pretending we’re married!”

Ifor took a chicken sandwich, ate into it.

“Trout would be nice, but I didn’t pack for that,” Ifor said.

“Best to get moving,” Ainsley said.

Ifor backed up the pickup, pulled forward, onto the road. He spotted it in the rear view mirror, the Battle Ground Police entering the parking lot.

“Getting seen is one thing, getting busted—not really up for that,” Ifor said, “Thanks.”

“Aunt Jeanna would be furious,” Ainsley said.

Ifor worked on his fries as he drove. One mile onto I-5 south, and they came to a crawl.

“Rush hour!” Ifor stammered, “Options?”

“What’s your PIN?” Ainsley asked as she picked up his phone.

“My dick,” Ifor said, “Aim it at my dick.”

Ainsley took the snap, it came to life.

“And tap the end of it,” Ifor said, “Be gentle with…”

Ainsley tapped the screen to it.

“You used your dick?” Ainsley asked.

“We have to…I mean boys,” Ifor said.

“That’s not standard issue,” Ainsley said.

“Well, the regular stuff’s unlocked,” Ifor said.

“Should’ve said so,” Ainsley said.

Ainsley scrolled as Ifor drove.

“Still—it would’ve been fun,” Ainsley said, “Back there.”

Ifor had an idea as Ainsley scrolled through.

“Couple of miles,” Ainsley said, “Bridge and a bit downtown.”

Ifor balanced the wheel with his knees, his hard dick against the plastic, finished his sandwich as they crept along in the middle lane. Ifor brought the truck to a stop, glanced ahead, and it was a parking lot, no cars moved.

“Eww…accident,” Ainsley said.

“Now,” Ifor said.

“What?” Ainsley asked.

Ifor set the parking brake, got up to crouch on the driver seat.

“You’re serious?” Ainsley asked, her eyes studied his face, “You are!”

“Up for it?” Ifor asked, aware his butt was mooning the next car over, glanced at the cab of the semi to their right. “I’m not hiding it.”

Ainsley got onto her back, her butt toward Ifor. Ifor placed her lower calf muscles on his shoulders as he knelt on the seat. Ifor lifted her hips, adjusted, and pushed his hard dick between the petals. A push, a pull, Ifor flexed his hips, his stiff erection drilled as he felt the rhythmic suction. Ifor glanced forward, cars were beginning to move. Ifor hurried, held it in as he felt the spasm, and released. He pulled out as the semi let out a quick toot of the horn.

“Interesting,” Ainsley said as Ifor released the brake.

Feet on the gas and the clutch, Ifor got the truck into motion to creep forward.

“As I said, no shame,” Ifor said.

“You’re definitely good for Florida,” Ainsley said.

Ifor secured his seat belt, aware his softening dick was returning to the leather of the bench.

“Anything else?” Ifor asked.

Ainsley scrolled.

“Risley wanted to do a bible study, but the church is having bingo,” Ainsley said, “Grant’s with him at his house.”

“We’ll go there,” Ifor said.

“My clothes are at your house,” Ainsley said.

“So are mine,” Ifor said, “Nah, they’re good.”

“You’d share me with them?” Ainsley asked.

“Want to?” Ifor said, “Yes, I’d be comfortable with them being a second or a third dick if you wanted it.”

“You’re offering me up?” Ainsley asked.

“No,” Ifor said, “I trust them with my life, I’d trust them with you too.”

Ifor kept driving.

* * *

Ainsley ducked and Ifor gunned the engine after they came to Strawberry Street; drove past the protesters, and up the driveway. Ifor pulled around into the back of the broad and blue house, on the lawn between the house and the garage.

“You’re the one that suggested skipping your house,” Ainsley said.

Marcia, in light green shorts and a beacon of the light T–shirt, came out of the back of the house, toward them. Ifor got out.

“Oh,” Marcia said, as she surveyed him, “Cute.”

“You went to the camp?” Ainsley asked through a rolled down window.

“Funny enough, yes,” Marcia said, “Unlike the one being sponsored to go.”

“Come on,” Ifor said to Ainsley.

“Oooh,” Marcia said, “Daring.”

“It’s better like this,” Ifor said, “Inside.”

“I did see Cody at camp,” Marcia said, “Your dick’s more like my brother’s, not Cody’s.”

“We’ve got protesters in front,” Ifor said, “Can we get inside?”

Marcia reached, touched Ifor’s foreskin, teased it for a moment.

“Excuse me,” Ifor said as his dick stiffened.

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Marcia said as she ran inside.

“You’re not exactly selective are you?” Ainsley asked as she got out of the pickup.

“First lesson in life, a dick is a dick, it’ll go stiff when it wants to,” Ifor said, “Play with it and boys can’t stop it.”

“You didn’t push her away,” Ainsley said as they entered the house, sounds of bombs whistling in the air.

“History of this holy chariot of the gospel has resonated with the American armed forces to this day.”

“Talk and you’ll give yourselves away,” Marcia whispered.

Ifor and Ainsley crossed the kitchen, went up the stairs, as the whistling turned into explosions.

“Need to use the bathroom to remove that…sponge?” Ifor asked.

“Have to wait at least six hours,” Ainsley said.

Ifor knocked on the door.

“RISLEY, IT’S ME!” Ifor shouted.

A moment later, the door moved open, Risley, with semen coating his hard dick and into his pubic hair, stood there.

“You two seeing each other?” Risley asked.

“What makes you say that?” Ifor asked as he and Ainsley entered.

Grant waved from the bed, his circumcised hard erection jutted upward. Door closed, and the documentary became muffled.

“At least Risley’s got some measure of sound proofing,” Grant said.

“Who’d think that’d be useful for the protesters too,” Risley said.

“You played with yourself,” Ainsley said to Risley.

“So? It’s his bedroom,” Ifor said, “Besides, could’ve been Grant.”

Grant merely grinned.

“You three are all—!” Ainsley started.

“FRIENDS!” Ifor said, “Brothers of a sort, we shared _everything_ out there. Understand? Every single fucking thing?”

“Including me?” Ainsley asked.

“Only if you want to,” Risley stated.

“No offer will be refused,” Grant said as he gripped his hard cock, began to stroke it, “Or jerk it.”

“You—” Ainsley started as she glared at Ifor.

A chime came from Risley’s tablet, and Risley scanned his dick with a bit of semen still on his slit. On the white sheet of the wall, Maev was projected.

“I thought about dressing,” Ifor said, “But I realized you wouldn’t recognize me with my clothes on.”

Maev laughed.

“So,” Risley said, “How’s Dorcia doing?”

“Her Dad’s locked her away, in the house, for the safety of all the boys in the area,” Maev said, “Danny has slipped in once or twice since then.”

“We need to get you both west,” Grant said, “Before something happens—it sounds like they’re about to condemn her a witch or something—”

“Hopefully not,” Maev said, “To the so called men around here, she’s a warm place to stick a dick—and babies for Wallace. She’s been pulled from school in preparation for her wedding.”

“Can we distract our parents long enough to get over there and get them?” Grant asked Risley and Ifor.

“Um, driving would take…days,” Ifor said.

“Right now, their guard is up,” Maev said, “If we showed up, can you put us up?”

“Yes,” Ifor said.

“With your cop Dad?” Maev asked.

“Um…” Ifor said.

“Our study group is big enough,” Ainsley said, “I’ll ask, discreetly.”

“Would they come looking?” Grant asked.

“Not sure, but wouldn’t put it past them—either to get her back, or to intimidating and dispose of her,” Maev said.

“Given the news report, we’re bad luck,” Risley said, “Um, yeah, we can find something.”

“Before October?” Maev asked.

“Yes,” Risley said.

“Alright, I’ll keep—” Maev started.

“Um—you’re joining the police academy, remember?” Ainsley said to Risley and Grant.

“Not yet—but even so, this is protection,” Ifor said, “Think we’d be in the clear. I’m willing to take the chance.”

“I look forward to it,” Maev said, “Later.”

Maev pressed a button.

Connection terminated.

“You seem adamant,” Ainsley said.

“You didn’t witness Dorcia getting raped,” Ifor said, “And in West Virginia, that’s apparently considered prostitution. While I may not agree with his Ark, Jaimie’s right in that we have to take care of each other when we need it the most.”

“Watch this!” Grant announced.

Ifor and Ainsley turned, watched as Grant’s stiff erection threw up the first volley, splattered back down, became the eruption that coated the shaft, pooled into his pubic hair.

“That’s—” Ainsley started.

“Fine,” Ifor said, to her.

Grant smiled, his two juiced balls on display.


	36. Debate

Thursday, August 13th

“Hurry up!” came the holler.

Ifor was on his hands and knees, scanning beneath his bed, when Lovell came to his bedroom door in his black uniform of the Portland Police.

“Can’t find—” Ifor started, aware his was mooning his father.

“You’re not even dressed,” Lovell said, “We need to be discussing this, because I’ve heard you’ve been…not.”

“A shirt,” Ifor snapped.

“You’re going to be wearing a lot more as a deputy,” Lovell said, “There are shirts in your dresser, I see one.”

“FINE!” Ifor snapped as he stood, grabbed the green T–shirt from the dresser.

A pair of green shorts, and he carried them both out of the bedroom.

“Put them on!” Lovell said, following.

Ifor groaned, felt the foreigners on his skin as he pulled the shirt on first as he reached the bottom of the stairs. One foot and the next, his penis felt trapped.

“We can get you circumcised for the academy,” Lovell said.

“NO!” Ifor snapped.

“It’s protocol,” Lovell said.

“Why does it matter if they can’t see it?!” Ifor stammered.

Ifor went out the front door, walked over to the police cruiser, got in. Ifor had his bare feet up on the dashboard by the time Lovell got into the driver’s seat.

“I know you had a rough ordeal,” Lovell said as he put the car into motion, “But that does not excuse your attitude, it needs changing before you get to the academy.”

Ifor bent his back a bit, stared at the crotch of his shorts, made out the outline to the pouch of his balls. Wondered if they were academy material.

“When’s the next Bible study?” Lovell asked.

“Dunno,” Ifor said.

“I’d like to go,” Lovell said.

“Bit crowded,” Ifor snapped.

“Anything the matter?” Lovell asked.

“No,” Ifor said, “Best if you paid attention to where you’re going.”

“You didn’t used to be like this,” Lovell said, “You used to wear underwear—don’t let them find out!”

“Too tight,” Ifor snapped.

“Tell your mother,” Lovell said, “She’ll get you new ones.”

Ifor stared out the window, his mind divided between Dorcia’s plight in West Virginia, and whether he’d be happier as a plumber.

“When we get there, I’ve got paperwork until at least lunch,” Lovell said, “See if Malcolm can take you up—he’s been wanting to recruit a new spotter.”

Ifor remained quiet.

“See if Donald’s around,” Lovell said, “He’d be interested in more details to your ordeal.”

Ifor stayed quiet, knew most of it would get Risley and Grant into trouble too, watched as most people slowed down as they came by.

“Tall Grande,” Lovell said to the older lady at Gracie’s drive thru.

“Who’s the handsome one?” the lady asked.

“Him?” Lovell said, “My son.”

Ifor waved, his toes on the dash board worked the latch to the glove box.

“Ifor!” Lovell snapped as he took the tall styrofoam cup.

Ifor watched that cup in the cupholder, rattle as they drove, wondered about the durability. Instead, they pulled into the parking garage, and Ifor opened the passenger door. Ifor followed his father through the door of metal dragon teeth into the police headquarters, followed him up the stairs to the fourth floor, when they came to the office. Ifor spotted the portraits on the familiar desk, including a red haired cop he vaguely remembered from many years earlier.

“Serious,” Lovell said, “Go and find yourself a way to be useful—Malcolm or Donald would be delighted. I shouldn’t have to direct you around. You can ride with me sometime this afternoon.”

Ifor went down to the third floor, toward the reader board with assignments, one which read his father in the headquarters.

“It’s the billion dollar faggot!” said one male officer.

Ifor searched the board, Malcolm Ivinghoe in flight, and Donald Faucher on assignment.

“It’s the antichrist!” said another officer.

“Ought to have barbequed instead of rescued!” said a third officer, after spotting Ifor, to another officer.

“Will all available officers please report to the auditorium,” came an announcement.

Ifor went back down to the first floor, entered the empty break room with a couple of circular tables. He crawled beneath the rectangular table with its coffee maker, slipped behind the sofa, laid down in the tight space between it and the wall. He pulled off his green T–shirt, used it as a pillow beneath his head.

Those insults and the others that drifted in, seeded more doubt into Ifor about his prospects to the police academy, something that had always been a given, now in doubt. He had heard the stories, the antics, the stress to the academy, assumed it wasn’t personally directed. Ifor’s mind, however, shifted to West Virginia, wondering if he could talk Malcolm into using the helicopter to rescue her.

* * *

Risley woke on his bed to a chime from his tablet; his arms around Grant’s torso, Risley’s hard erection threatening the crack of Grant’s buttocks.

“Did I—?” Risley asked.

“No,” Grant replied, “Don’t move it.”

“Yes!” Risley snapped at the tablet, “Woody Elf!”

“Oh,” said a teenage boy, similar to age as him, came to the screen, with the name of _MathWhiz_ tacked to the corner. A myriad of bangs threatened eyebrows that accentuated the blue eyes, the face, though, had a stern appearance toward the camera, which the nipples and belly button joined in on. “If you’re busy—”

“Fine,” Risley said, his head over Grant’s shoulder.

“Is my—?” Grant started.

Risley reached over, felt the hard circumcised erection.

“Yep,” Risley said, massaged into it.

“Who are you?” Grant asked.

“Aleck,” the boy said as he tapped.

Their image shrunk as it zoomed out, the dark pubic hair over a partially stiff dick and testicles set against a white plaster wall with a desk.

“Know SprinterWV?” Risley asked as he stood up.

“Not particularly well,” Aleck said.

“We met her and her report helped our rescue,” Risley said, “She’s in trouble.”

Risley described the rape.

“I’m ashamed of my own balls by that!” Aleck said.

“We’ve killed dogs with our bare hands—while naked!” Grant said as he stood up next to Risley, “I don’t view her brother any differently. So, what the fuck is happening in West Virginia?”

Aleck sat on the desk, brought his knee up to the edge, and his dick flopped over the tablet as it came to his leg.

“Been here twelve days,” Aleck said, “Chat was one thing, always showing my wiener—sorry.”

“But you do get used to it,” Grant said.

“Oh—you’re the guys who—if I had a hat, it’d be tipped toward you,” Aleck said, “Real balls—seven whole weeks, without a safety net. I mean, here, my old clothes are packed away in a locker.”

“You’re already there?” Risley asked.

“Yeah—it’s great,” Aleck said, “I mean, the pussies I see? Good ones—not those from some old hag.”

“Must be tough keeping the dick down,” Risley said.

“That’s the thing,” Aleck said, “They don’t mind us shooting our loads—I’m still discreet about it.”

“Anything on Dorcia?” Grant asked.

“SprinterWV,” Risley stated.

“Got the file,” Aleck said, tapping, “Family tree has some twists. Her older sister is actually a half–sister, sired by Dorcia’s grandfather, but same mother. I see she’s been using the diary but I can’t access it.”

“Who can?” Risley asked.

“I need to get Shelby—he wrote that bit,” Aleck said, “I think he’s downstairs. Please hold.”

Aleck left the feed running, but left the room.

“What’s the point of this?” Risley asked.

“We’re missing everything,” Grant said, “We can’t ask Dorcia but—”

Another chime from the tablet.

“Maev,” Risley said as he pressed the button, “Making it a group chat.”

Their screen readjusted the image, the empty room went to the left half while Maev came to the right. Woods behind Maev, she was naked from head to toe.

“We’re looking for a way to get you and Dorcia out of there,” Grant said.

“We are?” Risley asked.

“She’s getting—” Grant started.

“Back,” Aleck said, coming back into view.

Another boy came into view with blondish brown hair, his right hand casually held his soft intact dick, the fingers supported his testicles to partially obscure the pubic hair. Balls flopped and his fingers stretched his foreskin, while his brown eyes stared directly at them through the screen.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“He’s Shitter, or Shelby,” Aleck said, “He wants to know why you’re so interested in her diary.”

“Why?!” Grant said, “She’s getting raped! That’s why. That’s why. A girl ought to have more say in their pussy than some stick of gum that you accidentally step on. But, she feels utterly trapped and is unwilling to escape—I figured her diary was a good place to begin.”

“That’s more sensitive than her—” Maev started.

“She’s got neither at the moment,” Grant said, “I’m putting my foot down—not resigning myself to letting her suffer. I love her and she’s my friend—you both are Maev. You need to get out of there.”

“Who has she trusted with full control?” Shelby said, “If three of them agree it’s warranted, then the diary, or any of her data, can be read.”

“Can we look?” Risley asked.

“No,” Shelby said, “Look, it’s tricky balancing everything, however, given our enemy, we had to ensure that no single person could betray anybody except themselves.”

“Full control?” Grant asked.

“I’ll explain later, but yes, we’ve done it,” Risley said, “Ifor might—but he’s with his Dad today. Maev—?”

“Yes, when I was setup,” Maev said.

“We need one other,” Shelby said.

“Got it,” Aleck said, “Jarred, from Albuquerque, is here.”

“Then you have three,” Shelby said.

“He’s in the hall asking questions about it,” Aleck said, “Um…be right back.”

Aleck walked away.

“So you’re the ones that ditched Bible Camp?” Shelby asked.

“Yeah,” Risley said, “That’s us.”

“And you met her, SprinterWV or Dorcia?” Shelby asked.

“Should’ve seen her and Risley here,” Grant said, “I must’ve been gone a minute, when they had shown up, and Risley was already having sex with her! But yes, wonderful girl. And Maev here too.”

“Thank you,” Maev said.

“He’s agreed,” Aleck said as he returned to view, “It’s up to you to two—”

“Gentlemen,” Maev said.

“Yeah,” Risley stated.

“Anything more?” Shelby asked.

“Hopefully not,” Risley said.

“Holler if you do, as we need to get back to work,” Shelby said, “I do implore you to listen to Jaimie when he shows up—”

“He’s coming?” Risley asked.

“Many from your Bible Study would be suitable—to be honest,” Aleck said, “We need people who don’t give a fuck about the system.”

“And clearly you care just as much as I do,” Shelby said, “Only seven weeks naked—try getting a court injunction requiring it.”

“You’ve got one of those?” Risley asked.

“Nearly a year ago,” Shelby said, “Letting the balls hang free—wonderful idea. Adios, and I look forward to seeing you here.”

Aleck and Shelby vanished.

“Cousin Wallace,” Maev said, “You might say Dorcia started it, but couldn’t stop it.”

“She did?” Risley asked.

“She flirted with him and his parents took that as a sign to arrange a marriage,” Maev said, “And, at the end of the last school year, she had made the state all star for West Virginia in track and field, but theater camp ran right over top of it and she never applied for that. After camp—I… I’m sorry.”

“What?” Grant asked.

“I shouldn’t have persuaded her…” Maev said, “She was uncertain to her orientation, so she talked Danny into sex, to convince herself…I didn’t realize the consequences of my actions. She regretted it immediately after—there’s a bit in here that, as far as her family was concerned, fuck once and the boy has title. Danny started using it immediately after we came back, and he feels entitled to it.”

Maev’s eyes moved back up.

“That’s utterly wrong,” Grant said.

“At least their genes stay in the family,” Maev said.

“No,” Risley said, “It’s wrong.”

“So she likes to flirt and check us out,” Grant said, “As we do to you—it makes life fun. You could’ve just walked past when you saw us in Alaska, yet you chose to talk to us. We agreed to sex—and we all enjoyed it—”

“Debatable,” Maev said.

“At least I hope you enjoyed it,” Grant said, “Besides the point—we kept it up. You could’ve, at any point, decided to part ways, but we stuck together. Whether it’s with fingers, tongues, dicks, our vibrators, we all have a fundamental right to our own bodies. That’s me, that’s you, that’s her. And it’s not just for the first encounter, but every, single, encounter, whether big or small. To violate those rights is sexual assault, it’s rape, and ought to be punished as brutally as it’s delivered.”

Maev stood there, letting a light mist come over her, and blinked.

“Thank you,” Maev said, “But your trouble is to convince her that she’s the victim—right now, they have her brainwashed to think she’s the predator. And she’s not leaving until you get her to doubt that.”

“How?” Grant said, “We’ve already gone missing once this summer, so we’d get caught before reaching you. Do you have any contact with her?”

“A little,” Maev said.

“We’ll record, then,” Grant said, “Deliver them—”

“It’s likely a sanitized tablet,” Maev said.

“Then edit our messages,” Grant said, “You know, crop out the dicks—”

“You want me—?” Maev asked.

“And once you’ve talked her into leaving—here,” Grant tapped on his tablet, “For you.”

“Bus tickets?” Maev said, “You shouldn’t have—”

“I mean it,” Grant said, “No returning them until you’re standing in front of me, here, in Portland. Those should be good for thirty days after first use, so you can take your time, as needed.”

“Thank you,” Maev said, “You do care.”

“I do,” Grant said, “I do. Love you.”

“I hear thunder,” Maev said, “Later.”

Maev vanished.

“You just bought them tickets—with what?” Risley asked.

“I should have earned enough by the time the bill comes due on the credit card,” Grant said, “Those people are treating Dorcia like a stick of gum—and what do you do with an old piece of gum?”

Risley remained silent.

“Under the seat, on the bus, on the road—you dispose of it,” Grant said, “I’m afraid they’re going to do the same to Dorcia.”

Risley had one option, he dropped to his knees, let Grant’s erection into his mouth. Risley tasted the flesh as he lapped around it. A tickle to the testicles, a lick to the slit, and Risley tasted the hot lava pour out.

“You like these,” Grant said.

“You and Ifor—only,” Risley stated as he stood back up, “He’s…”

“Having fun with his Dad,” Grant said.

* * *

Ifor heard the feet as he laid there, uncertain to the time, when another set of footsteps entered, lighter on the sound, figured it was one of the few woman. Footsteps paced over to the coffee maker, where he heard the pouring of the coffee, before a danish was picked up. Slide of a chair, a person sat, and the slide of a coffee mug. Another pair of footsteps, deeper, approached.

“Secure the door,” the female voice said.

Ifor bent up enough to see the hair of Captain Sefton and his father; she was sitting, he was paying attention to her as he stood.

“What’s bothering you?” Lovell asked her, “Enough to summon me here?”

“It’s about Ifor,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “That includes, by extension, Risley and Grant. If you repeat this to them, they’re likely to get the wrong idea, can I trust you?”

“Alright,” Lovell said.

“Donald worked it all out, everything,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “But there’s a complication that keeps me from signing arrest warrants for Captain Shrader or his pilot, Irwin Milton, on charges that would include attempted murder, assault, conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy, money laundering, fraud, theft—charges that stem from what they did to your son. However, the Department of Homeland Morality paid me a visit.”

“DHM gives me the creeps,” Lovell said.

“DHM trusts in God, but monitors everything else,” she said, “Ifor is on their radar.”

“Ifor?” Lovell said, “He’s a bit arrogant, but that comes with the hormones, a bit of police work—”

“It runs deeper,” she said, “For Shrader misunderstood their solicitation—thought it was coming from the Darwin division.”

“No…no,” Lovell stammered.

She ate at her danish, sipped at the coffee.

“They prefer soft power,” Alexis said, “Such as those protesters, which were a demonstration to me. I had to buckle because Captain Shrader held the lives of those boys in the palm of his hand, I buckled to save them. That is the price that I paid.”

Ifor swallowed hard.

“So Captain Shrader—” Lovell started.

“Continues as he’s been doing,” she said, “I hope he steps in a bear trap of falls down a mine, but I cannot act. The other shoe is that the Darwin Division uses that hunting club that Captain Shrader runs as one option for natural selection. In return for keeping the investigation off, we get a year to work with the boys, who’ve been under the auspices of Lighthouse with diminishing prospects.”

“They’ve incurred the wrath of the DHM?” Lovell asked, “What can we do?”

“You’ve not worked with Lighthouse, have you?” Alexis said, “It starts off nice when a kid’s referred to them. Steer the kid and improve their spirituality, change their minds. Most of the time, it works, with different levels of help. Ifor and his friends were slipping, which is why they were referred to that camp, because if he had done it, it would’ve improved his condition. Instead, he skipped. Once a kid exhausts all options, the case is referred upward, and a final test is conducted; flunk that, and the case moves over to Darwin, and they’re listed for natural selection.”

“I take it that Ifor has been listed,” Lovell said.

“Due to his summer activity,” Alexis said, “His case was passed upward and is currently on the desk of Inquisitor Baris. Risley and Grant are there too.”

“Cody?” Lovell asked.

“Cody’s not been listed because he’s their shepherd, the one that’s supposed to help guide them,,” Alexis said, “Besides, having a camp full of head cases wouldn’t be very productive. For a religious government, the DHM is downright charitable, all things considered. In exchange for withdrawing Donald, we’ve got sixteen months before we’re burying them, for real.”

Lovell picked up her mug, tried to bring it to his lips, but the hands trembled enough that he dropped it; the mug broke on the floor.

“We’ve got until next Christmas,” Alexis said, “If–and I stress if we succeed, then we’ll be celebrating the milestone—however, that’s never the end of the road on this.”

“I’ve known Ifor’s a little weak,” Lovell said, “Never imagined him to be that bad. He goes to church regularly, runs a bible study which meets a bit haphazardly. We typically pray for meals—I’m at a loss as to what to do.”

“I’ll talk to the commandant, see if we can’t get a bit of extra focus while they’re at the academy,” Alexis said, “I say encourage him to set a day of the week for his bible study, and search out others.”

“He seems to have lost interest in the Wild Trekkers—” Lovell started.

“You need to discuss that with him,”Alexis said, “He’s not lost his interest in camping or hiking, so you might exploit that. He’s also interested in theater—”

“That’s likely the cause behind half of those signs,” Lovell said.

“Then find him scripts,” Alexis said, “I mean, most congregations welcome biblical reenactments.”

“Thank you,” Lovell said.

“One more thing,” Alexis said, “I’m giving you a promotion. It’s about time you became a lieutenant, especially with Ifor coming onboard.”

“Is this for keeping my silence?” Lovell asked.

What you believe is up to you—I will not confirm nor deny that assertion,” Alexis said, “This promotion will give you a raise, and a better chance to influence Ifor. With Ifor, both Risley and Grant would likely go along.”

“I need to think this over,” Lovell said.

“Do not take too long,” Alexis said, “I give you to the end of Friday to accept or reject it. However, for the sake of your career, a rejection would not look favorable.”

“You will have an answer,” Lovell said.

“You’re dismissed,” Alexis said, “And lock the door behind you.”

Ifor ducked back down behind the sofa as his father left the break room. He heard the door close, before her footsteps grew louder. She peered over the back of the sofa, at Ifor.

“You unplugged the coffee pot,” Captain Alexis said, “Come out and have a seat.”

Ifor crawled over, plugged it back in, before snagging his shorts on the table leg. His shorts dropped as he scrambled out, let them be as he sat on the right side of the sofa. The captain sat immediately to his left, her eyes gave a quick glance to the crotch before she settled them onto his eyes.

“Not the first time you’ve hidden back there,” she said, “Though you think you’re mature, don’t you?”

“Guess so,” Ifor said.

“While I wasn’t planning to discuss everything you heard,” she said, “You saved me a bit of repetition with you.”

“You were going to?” Ifor asked.

Her eyes drifted back down, Ifor uncertain what she focused on.

“You’re sixteen and about to enter the academy—think they’re about as ready for you as the one I dropped off many years ago, your Dad’s former beat partner,” she said, “Once successful, you’d be entrusted with a badge and a gun, so it’s not unreasonable to let you know what’s being said about you, for it impacts you.”

“I heard the insults in the halls,” Ifor said.

“You were referred because you’ve got a critical mind,” she said, “Society despises that and would rather you became a sheep among the herd.”

“Are you telling me to—?” Ifor started.

“I’m not telling you to do anything,” Alexis said, “I am merely telling you how I see things. A black sheep is not tolerated among white sheep—it will be culled if it remains. So, the black sheep that wishes to live must either paint itself white or leave. Ironically, white sheep rarely realize they are headed for the slaughter themselves.”

“So you’re calling me a black sheep?” Ifor asked.

“Whether you are white or black, only you know that,” Alexis said.

“But the department of…what was it?” Ifor said, “To them, I’m black?”

“Department of Homeland Morality,” Alexis said, “Quiet little agency that prefers to outsource the dirty work. Portland’s diverse enough that it’s taking them longer to get their grime all over the place. Other communities—the locals will burn people at the stake for petty misdeeds—and we’re talking the same people that would stone you for your little bible study.”

“What’s wrong with a bible study?” Ifor asked.

“Vicar Tyrall is a bit trusting and naive,” Alexis said, “I do not advise you tell your Dad about what you really do.”

“No, definitely not,” Ifor said.

She adjusted herself, sat back up.

“I hear things,” she said, “I understand you’ve been made an offer in relation to a certain Jaimie Scott from Florida.”

“What do you know—?” Ifor started.

“I know absolutely nothing about it,” Alexis said, “Simply big projects have a way of getting noticed. So, you have a decision to make, and not lightly, for it’ll impact you for the rest of your life and the lives of any children you may have.”

“Are you saying I should go?” Ifor asked.

“I’m not telling you to do a damn thing,” Captain Alexis said, “So, you have a choice, Ifor Lovell Ulverston, do you stay or do you go?”

“If I stay?” Ifor asked, unconcerned that his dick seemed to be her focus.

“If you stay,” she said, “They will kill you if you’re not religious—in their eyes. If you stay, I’d recommend learning to fake it—I know what that’s like, and you’ll have to be dishonest to yourself; it’ll lead you to accept crooked deals from the Department of Homeland Morality. Eventually, it’ll sink in, but you’ll calcify until you’re unable to tell the difference between the real or the fake.”

“If I go, what about Dad?” Ifor said, “I mean, he’s—I’d never see him again.” He didn’t always like his father, but he was his father.

“I had to relieve him of duty after you were declared dead,” Alexis said, “However, if you plan well, a video chat might not be the same, but it’s something.”

“I’m not certain what to think,” Ifor said as he stood up.

“There is no right or wrong on this, except to yourself,” Alexis said, “And I do not regret the deals I had to make to give you that chance to decide.”

“Um,” Ifor said, “Thank you.”

“Your clothes?” she asked.

Ifor crouched as he went for his shirt, stood back up.

“Ainsley likes what she sees in you?” Alexis asked.

“Meaning?” Ifor asked.

“Be mindful that getting chicken sandwiches in the buff get noticed,” the Captain said.

“Oh,” Ifor said, he thought he had gotten away with it. Ifor pulled the shirt on.

“You’re not shy and you’re confident,” the Captain Sefton said, “Traits that will serve you well.”

Ifor put on his shorts.

“Sorry to put you through the trouble,” Ifor said.

“You are worth it—think nothing less,” she said, “I’d make the same trade again, if I had to.”

Ifor turned for the door.

“Good luck,” Alexis said.

Ifor left the break room, wondered exactly how much the Captain knew, how much he should tell the others. He walked the stairs up to the roof.

“Just watching,” Ifor said to the guard.

“Don’t wander too far,” the guard replied.

Ifor sat down, near the stairwell, crossed his legs, as he watched the empty helipads. Despite the bit of noise from the streets below, this was better over the constraining walls below.

* * *

Ifor drove along that evening, in the police cruiser, with Lovell in the passenger seat.

“See how that feels?” Lovell said.

“Yeah,” Ifor said. He didn’t tell his father, there was something cool in driving a police car, the others that suddenly checked their speed as he drove by.

“How did it go?” Lovell asked.

“Fine,” Ifor said, his conversation with Captain Alexis Sefton still in his head.

“Going to have a bible study this week?” Lovell asked.

“Maybe,” Ifor said.

“In order for it to be of real use, set a schedule,” Lovell said, “Choose a day of the week. Those who really care about it will make the time.”

“Perhaps,” Ifor said, he knew where his father had gotten that idea, though it made sense for reserving the church to avoid bingo nights.

“Friday would be good—later curfew,” Lovell said, “And, join the force, you could stay even later. It’d even fit in good with the academy schedule.”

“It’s not just me,” Ifor said, as the cruiser pulled up to the driveway.

“Back it in,” Lovell said.

“With them?” Ifor asked, while nodding toward the protesters.

“You need exert confidence in your own self,” Lovell said, “That’s the first step toward gaining the confidence of others.”

“Not today,” Ifor said as he pulled in and parked. He got out.

Shirt off as he entered the house, Ifor walked past his mother as he crossed the living room, turned for the stairs. His shorts fell one step up.

“He did alright, I think,” Lovell said in the living room.

Ifor continued up the stairs, into his bedroom. A hymn below played below as he tapped on the tablet.

Alfonso showed up on the screen, in the same small room with white plaster walls; he sat on the table, propped his left leg up on a chair, while his right toward the camera with his balls clearing the left thigh to hang free.

“Oh,” Ifor said, “Was expecting—”

“Given the size of this endeavor we rotate the chat duty,” Alfonso said, “What’s up?”

“I need a background check on Alexis Joyce Sefton, Captain in the Portland Police,” Ifor said.

“Why?” Alfonso asked.

“I’d rather not say, not here,” Ifor said, uncertain how private their private chat really was, or whether the protesters were doing nothing more than pumping their musical tastes against the house.

“Alright,” Alfonso said as he tapped onto his tablet, “Ooh, part of it’s classified—we can’t read those.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Ifor asked.

“Can’t,” Alfonso said, “Alright, got it. Age forty two, has a single caution is marked against her, and…record is, she’s turned down promotions to commissioner, twice. Nothing else remarkable on her, except for a husband and some children; some commendations related to her work.”

“Thank you,” Ifor said.

“I hope you decide to join us,” Alfonso said, “Later.”

Alfonso’s image disappeared.

Connection terminated.

Ifor moved over to his bed, leaned back, tried to puzzle it out, but the music kept interfering with his thoughts. Ifor left his bedroom, grabbed the shirt from the stairs, entered the living room.

“Can we talk?” Lovell asked.

“No,” Ifor said as he grabbed his shorts from next to the front door.

Ifor went down the steps into the basement, and out the back door. He walked past the truck, pulled the shirt and shorts on, before he crossed the road. A fence hop in one backyard, Ifor came to the familiar blue house, entered the kitchen, and up the stairs into Risley’s bedroom. Grant was there, Risley wasn’t.

“They’re trying to get Risley something decent to wear,” Grant said.

“I didn’t want to keep hearing about how the angels would take away the sinners,” Ifor said as he laid down.

Ifor leaned his head onto Grant’s stomach, studied the curves and lines of the circumcised penis buried against the scruffy pubic hair.

“Glad you like my penis more than my face,” Grant said, “Ainsley’s become boring?”

“I wanted to think,” Ifor said, “Your dick’s the best thing for that.”

“A smart dick, I like this,” Grant said.

“How set are you on the police academy?” Ifor asked.

“Better than being a plumber,” Grant said.

“Maybe,” Ifor said, “I mean, as a plumber, you can go flashing your pretty butt at people.”

“Hadn’t thought of it like that,” Grant said, “Interested?”

Ifor snorted, reached, and held Grant’s soft penis.

“Guess your dick’s more about the adventure,” Ifor said, “Can we skip being adults, stay as kids?”

“How long is your Dad going to put up with you?” Grant asked.

“As long as it takes me, or die trying, I guess,” Ifor said.

Ifor’s fingers teased Grant’s dick stiff, watched as the sticky off–white cascaded down over the fingers. Ifor still was unsure which option he should take, but the police academy was the safest, so long as he could live with the lies he’d be forced to tell. If only they had a better option to help Dorcia.

* * *

Sunday, August 16th

It was already late when Ifor, Risley, and Grant gathered in Risley’s bedroom. Risley tapped on his tablet once the chime came in. The screen went dark except for Maev’s figure dimly lit by moonlight.

“Hi,” Maev said, “Sorry, but this is about the only place I dare talk freely.”

“How’s Dorcia?” Grant asked.

“I was with her when she had some terrible cramps,” Maev said, “Mr. Davidson eased up a bit, let me visit for a short while. With those cramps, I realized the truth, later—you know, for a people who claim to uphold the principles of the bible—Dorcia, apparently, was pregnant.”

“What?!” Ifor stammered.

“Not a terrible surprise with how you three kept her high on your sperm for two weeks straight,” Maev said, “The timing is right for that.”

“When’s she due?” Risley asked.

“She’s not,” Maev said, “That sin her father spoke of, it was pregnancy and those exorcism pills were RU486—he forced an abortion.”

“That’s murder!” Grant exclaimed.

“Regardless on your stance on women’s rights to her body—I think she would’ve carried it to term,” Maev said, “My visit was short, plus I didn’t really figure it out until I stole a pill to show Gretel.”

“Pregnant?” Ifor muttered.

“I’ll tell her as soon as I can,” Maev said, “With a marriage in October, she could’ve hidden—”

“They’d subtract the dates,” Risley said, “Or, at least here they could.”

“Even in this area, people are generally smart enough to do the same,” Maev said, “It’s disgusting. But I thought you ought to know. Anyways, I can’t be long—love you all.”

Her image vanished.

“Who’s kid?” Grant asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Ifor said as he sighed. He leaned against Risley’s purple bedroom wall. “I would’ve been grateful for any of us to be the father. Even you Grant.”

“How’d she get pregnant?” Risley asked.

“You haven’t figured it out?” Ifor said, “Sex is what does it. Every time you have sex with a girl, you’re rolling the dice, taking the chance that she will get pregnant.”

“Oh,” Risley said as he sat down.

“Later, need to staff the emergency on–call,” Grant said as he pulled on a yellow T–shirt and shorts, “For people who really need their sinks unclogged at two in the morning.”

Grant left.

“We really fucked her,” Risley said.

“Dorcia wanted it,” Ifor said as he laid on Risley’s bed, on his side, “With us, not her brother, not her cousin.”

Risley crawled in behind Ifor, brought the chest to Ifor’s back. Ifor felt the pubic hair, the soft penis against his butt.

“Boys don’t get pregnant, do they?” Risley asked.

Ifor felt Risley’s hand reach around, hold Ifor’s balls.

“Nope,” Ifor said, “Safe from that.”

Ifor felt the stimulation, the fingers that rubbed his penis into an erection, kept rubbing along with the others that entered his anus.

“You’re welcome and good night,” Risley said.

Ifor felt the surge and release, saw his liquid shoot and flow across the carpet in the dim light. Pulsations led the wave of fatigue, and Ifor fell to sleep.


	37. Unexpected

Monday, August 17th

Monday morning, Captain Alexis Sefton moved up the flights of stairs, went down the hallway, and entered her cramped office where Behar Baris had already taken her chair.

“Have you looked into the rumors of adultery in Kex’s battalion?” Alexis felt as grimy as giving a guard dog a steak as she said that. “An inquisition—”

“I hear that a certain investigator has been recalled and Captain Shrader is relaxing,” Baris said, “You have your boys back, for the time being. Everybody should be happy with smiles on their faces.”

“I kept my end, yet you are still here,” Alexis said.

“A good shepherd still checks his flock,” Baris said.

“Stop the pretense, we’re on the same side,” Alexis said.

“What other side would there be?” Baris asked her.

“None,” Alexis said, “We all adhere to the sixth commandment.”

“The Bible lists the reasons that God kills,” Baris said, “That is outside our jurisdiction. So, where are your four boys?”

“Three,” Alexis corrected, before she realized her misstep.

“Four were on that scholarship,” Baris said, “They skipped—”

“Three skipped,” Alexis said, “Cody Austin Vankleeck is still in attendance.”

“Still?” Baris said, “He wasn’t sent there to enjoy it.”

Baris left the office.

“Good Riddance,” Alexis muttered as she grabbed the can of disinfectant from her drawer, sprayed the chair.

She lifted the letter from the desk.

Captain Alexis Sefton,

I cannot, in good consciousness, accept the promotion to Lieutenant at this time.

Sincerely,

Sargent Lovell Edan Ulverston.

Tuesday, August 18th

Cody laughed as he walked along the trail at Beacon of the Light; his arms brushed against his purple Beacon of the Light T–shirt, which he knew to be Risley’s favorite color.

“That’s good,” Cody said to Hugo, walking with him.

They came to the main clearing with the flagpole and the dining hall.

“Best of friends?” Hugo asked as he held up a fist.

It took Cody a moment, with his previous friends likely already buried in Portland, however, Cody bumped fists with him. They walked past the Landcastle deputy parked on the gravel, approached the main office.

“Have fun,” Hugo said, “Good luck.”

Cody entered the office.

“You sent for me?” Cody asked Keaton.

Keaton motioned, pointed, and Cody entered the director’s office. Rick, already behind the large wooden desk, had his glaring eyes trained on Cody.

“After the stunts you’ve pulled this summer, I was amazed to learn that you were still here,” Rick said, “Conspiracy to murder fellow campers? As your scholarship’s been rescinded, you are hereby, expelled from Beacon of Light Youth Camp. And given your past conduct—” he handed Cody a written letter “—you are never to set foot here again. We shoot trespassers.”

“What?” Cody stammered, “It’s unfair—”

“Unfair?” Rick said, “Unfair in that you stayed a month after campers were found dead—people get upset when you had a hand in that. Your continued presence is a cancer that can no longer be tolerated. Leave.”

Rick handed over a letter.

“Come,” said Deputy Wilbur, behind Cody.

“I’ll go and pack,” Cody said.

“It’ll get shipped to you,” Rick said, “Now, immediately, no farewells.”

Rick turned around on his swiveling chair. Cody felt the jab from the deputy, left the director’s office.

“One moment,” Keaton said.

“Your director—” the Deputy said.

“His phone is to be returned upon departure,” Keaton said, handing it over to Cody.

“Move,” the Deputy said to Cody, “Before I tase!”

“I’m a kid!” Cody protested as he left the office.

“Try me,” the Deputy said.

“You’re getting—?” Hugo started.

“Scram!” the Deputy said.

“Here,” Hugo ripped out a page from a nearby bible, wrote on it, and rushed to hand it to Cody, “Contact me.”

Cody took the page, got into the back seat of the Landcastle Patrol car, and placed the page into his wallet.

“One final look,” Deputy Wilber said as he drove.

Cody knew it’d be the last time he’d see the camp, a camp he’d pestered his parents for years, only to be expelled and unable to return. He was at a loss for coming up with an explanation for his parents no matter how many times he went over it in his head as they drove away, toward Anchorage.

Cody stepped out of the patrol car at Ted Stevens International Airport. Deputy Wilber handed Cody a slip of paper.

“That’s your reservation,” Deputy Wilber said, “Don’t lose it, and do not return, ever.”

Cody took the paper, still in his blue jeans and purple Beacon of the Light T–shirt, entered the airport, went over to the Gospel Airlines kiosk.

“How many bags will you be checking in?” the kiosk asked.

“None,” Cody said, “Suppose that’s one advantage—no luggage.”

“Response not understood,” the kiosk said.

Cody pressed the zero, and took his paper ticket.

“How quaint,” Cody said as he walked for airport security.

Cody checked his phone as he put it into the tray, dark screen that wouldn’t respond.

“Damn, dead battery,” Cody grumbled as he went through the detector.

Cody picked up his phone, glanced at a big clock and realized he had a couple of hours, so he found his way to the chapel, and entered. He knelt in front of the statue of Jesus.

“Sorry for I’ve definitely sinned,” Cody said to the statue, “Hindsight is easy, I wouldn’t have held their secret, I would’ve either dissuaded them, or ratted their stupid idea out—I didn’t know it’d lead to distress, a statewide search, and the deaths of my friends. Instead, I went along with it, and now I’m banished from a promised land. I know there’s nothing I can do to truly make up for it, except ask for forgiveness, which I do. Maybe I’ll make it up if I get to heaven, which I should, but I’ve really, really, sinned. In your name, amen.”

Cody went back, sat on the bench, until he heard the call.

“Gospel Airlines flight to Portland is now boarding,” came the announcement.

Cody left the chapel, ran to the back of the line of people, yielded to others to stay last.

“You could’ve boarded earlier,” the lady flight attendant said to him.

“No worries,” Cody replied.

“Welcome aboard,” she said.

Cody walked along the jetway, boarded the aircraft, took the seat in the back, the middle, and could smell the foulness from the lavatory. It reminded him of how he felt, rotten, but at least he was returning to Portland, alive.

* * *

Hours after the flight started, and multiple refusals of the complimentary snacks, the plane landed at Portland International Airport around noon and taxied to the gate. He waited until the others got off, came up last, and walked through the terminal. As he cleared the secured area, he spotted them, outside the building, his parents. Cody took the escalator up to departures, walked along, before taking the stairs at the end one down.

“Close,” Cody muttered, he didn’t want to face them.

Cody went to the light rail station, stepped onto the train, and rode it until it followed the Banfield Freeway, where he got off. A modest walk, and he came to Old York Avenue, spotted his house, the familiar slanted roofs of a triangular design, when another thought crossed his mind.

“Nope,” Cody said, as he spun around, made his way for Strawberry Street, and the blue house.

Cody wondered for a moment at the idled empty lawn chairs on the crosswalks and street as he turned up the driveway, the red house to the other side of the chain linked fence. Cody let himself in through the back door, into the kitchen, where the sound of machine gun fire came from the documentaries in the living room.

Cody went up the stairs, heard a few noises from Risley’s bedroom, figured it was a weird thing parents do to memorialize their kid. Instead, Cody continued to the next door, past the bathroom, a few feet from Risley’s door and at the end of the short hall above the stairs. Cody opened the door, and she was there, in only a red bra.

“Hi,” Cody said, meekly. His phone nearly missed the charger on her desk as he dropped it there.

Marcia stood as Cody held her tightly, he felt the bra pushing through his shirt, his chest. He planted his lips onto hers, aware of the stiffness beneath his underwear. Their tongues danced together while her hands reached beneath his shirt. She rubbed his pectorals while her thumbs traced his nipples. He caressed her ears while she pulled up on his shirt.

“Love you,” Marcia managed.

For a moment, the cloth of Cody’s shirt wedged between their lips before it sailed to the floor. His fingers pushed between her chest and the bra, his fingers slid against her breasts until his index and middle finger felt her erect nipples. His jeans felt tighter than ever. Their tongues kept trying to switch places, feeling and licking. He undid her snaps, pulled the bra forward until it was loose but still pinned between them. He undid his belt and zipper, the white tent peeked out, pressed against her.

“I’m…” Cody muttered.

Her hands grabbed his waistband, pushed downward, and released his erection from its captivity; his jeans and white underwear fell to his knees. Cody stepped out of them and his shoes, his hard cock went into her curled hand.

“Bed,” Marcia suggested.

Marcia fell backward, landed on her twin bed. Cody came down until his knees were on the edge, his head crouched below the slanted ceiling. Her eyes fixated on his crotch, the hard cock, the golden brown pubic hair, and his loose balls waiting.

“Yeah…” Cody muttered as he smiled, nothing wrong to him.

Cody pushed her legs up and back toward her head, braced her thighs against him as he leaned down. He drove his hard cock straight into the warmth between her folds, and began to flex.

“Missed ya,” Cody said as he felt the suction, of her.

His hands felt her breasts, he didn’t need to, it had been weeks too many and his dick eager. Cody felt the quiver, the spasm, and held it in as the pulsations came through; he released within her. Stress of his day’s ordeal settled down, she was the answer. Cody pulled it out, where his damp but freshly used penis softened in front of her, the off–white dew oozed a bit on the slit of his tip.

“Love you,” Cody said as he laid down, wedged himself between her and the flower papered wall. His eyes fluttered, the fatigue encouraged a nap.

“Good,” Marcia said, “I’m pregnant.”

Cody laughed. “Wondered who’d crack first.”

“I mean it,” Marcia said as she stood up. She reached into her night stand, pulled out a white stick. with a plus sign on it. “I took a second one to be sure. According to the test—I am pregnant.”

“You’re not joking?” Cody asked as he sat up, “How—I thought it wasn’t until marriage!”

“Mom’s not as blind as I thought her to be,” Marcia said as she knelt on the edge of the bed, “Had me examined by the Vicar who explained it. What we’ve been doing _is_ how you make a baby.”

“Can something be done—?” Cody asked.

“Like murder?” Marcia said, “No, it’s coming—Lord willing.”

“How could you let yourself get PREGNANT!?” Cody asked.

“Quiet!” Marcia said, “Before Risley finds out!”

“He’s dead!” Cody exclaimed.

“Where have you been?” Marcia said, “Sorry, maybe they forgot to tell you. You’re right, they were fine, rescued, and he’s in his bedroom right now.”

“And you let me do—with him, right there?” Cody stammered as he stood up. Fucking Risley’s sister was one thing, having Risley catching them was a serious liability. Cody began to dress.

“He never seems to notice me,” Marcia explained.

Phone back into his pocket, Cody walked out of Marcia’s bedroom.

“It’s locked,” Marcia said.

Cody reached above the outside door jam, pressed the sequence.

“Teach me!” Marcia seethed.

Bolts unlatched, and Cody opened opened the door. His eyes focused on the two naked boys sitting on the bean bag chairs, Risley with his dark pubic hair and Ifor with a hard erection. Both eyes stared back as Cody felt the anger well up.

“YOU!” Cody seethed, “YOU! Do you have any idea to the amount of trouble YOU caused?!”

“Hi,” Ifor said as he waved, grin on his face.

“A fucking SCANDAL!” Cody said, “They kicked my out of camp because of YOU!” He pointed to Ifor before he moved to point at Risley. “And YOU! Where’s that scoundrel Grant?”

“Working,” Risley said, “His old man insists on it.”

“Maybe he’ll learn something on carrying responsibilities,” Cody said, “And while doubles can fool counselors, they don’t fool mothers!”

“Sorry—I didn’t expect that,” Risley said.

“They went ballistic with four dead campers!” Cody said.

“Calm down,” Risley said to Cody.

“Four?” Ifor asked.

“Yes, four dead campers were found while searching for YOU!” Cody said, “Not to mention those corpses I helped escort that were supposedly YOU! Know who they accused after I confessed to covering up for you while you went streaking across the Alaskan wilderness? ME!”

“Don’t forget the girls,” Marcia shouted.

“I would’ve appreciated you telling me the news!” Cody said, “Instead, you left me thinking I had gotten you KILLED!”

“And the girls,” Marcia said.

“Girls?” Cody asked.

“She stays OUT!” Risley said as he pointed.

Cody entered, but left the door open.

“What’s this about girls?” Cody asked.

“Girls on the news—about oh how cute they were!” Marcia said.

“Close the bloody door!” Risley said, “I’m NAKED!”

“You shouldn’t be!” Cody said as he closed the door.

“It’s my bedroom, my fiefdom,” Risley said as he pointed to his soft intact penis, “My dick stays out.”

“Dare I ask what you did with those girls?” Cody asked.

“Um…” Ifor sputtered.

Cody had a shrewd guess.

“That bad?” Cody spat, “And if you ever want me to cover up again—don’t!”

“Hey man, it’s not like we had time to plan it out,” Risley said, “Not like it was safe for us either—number of times, including getting shot at. We thought you were happier at camp, but many times we missed you and regretted not having you along. And now that we know the trouble it caused, even more. But, thank you, it was the right decision for me to skip.”

“Hard to explain, but yes,” Ifor said as he stood. Ifor took a step next to Cody, the hard dick jutted outward. “Look, we’re planning a little trip for Labor Day weekend to the coast. Come and make amends, we’ll make it up.”

Risley stood up.

“Tall, very tall order—more likely that you can’t make it up,” Cody said as his phone buzzed. He motioned his finger downward. “I have to go and explain why I squandered a perfectly good scholarship. Have any suggestions?”

“Look, I’m sorry for the trouble,” Ifor said as he extended a hand to Cody, “I really am, no hard feelings, alright?”

“Me too,” Risley said as he extended his hand.

Cody avoided their hands, instead turned, opened the door, and went out.

“Cody,” Marcia said.

“Sorry,” Cody said, “I can’t avoid this.”

He shook his phone toward her before he went down the steps and left the house.

* * *

Evening had already set in as Cody approached the familiar yet oddly different Acts 1:8 Church, his church; its rough cut old growth timbers carried the load of the steep roof with its cross to bear. Last time was two months earlier, before he left for camp, when he asked for an experience of a lifetime and got more than he had bargained for.

Cody entered, noticed its crossed vaulted ceilings paled to those of the dining hall, however, it still bore the marks of its craftsmanship. He strolled past the alter of the middle of the crossed hall sanctuary, went to the door on the opposite end from the entrance. Cody entered the corridor from its side, when he turned right, left, and entered the small meeting room.

“You’re late,” insinuated the man wearing the trench coat, Behar Baris with a tie snuggled beneath the collar of his dark suit jacket.

“Patience,” said the other man there, with the gray suit coat, Minister Yule.

“Greetings,” Cody said, extended his hand to his Minister.

“You, my friend, rode the rapids of life and capsized,” Minister Yule said, accepting the handshake, “Am I correct?”

“Pretty much,” Cody said.

“I—” Baris started.

“You’re a fine angel in helping the sinners…move along, Mr. Baris,” Minister Yule said, “Your tact with adolescents is less refined.”

Cody was uncertain how to take that comment.

“Mr. Baris oversaw the sponsorship to your scholarship,” Minister Yule said, “Obviously, he’s upset with how things turned out.”

“It’d be better to call it revealing, or enlightening,” Baris said, “All things have their purpose in the Lord’s plan, which we all help carry out.”

Minister Yule poured a cup of tea, handed it to Cody.

“For that, I totally apologize,” Cody said, “I tried talking them out of it, tried to persuade them to attend, but they wouldn’t hear of it. I should’ve told you about it, but failed to do that.”

“I concur,” Baris said, “You did fail. Did you not, for once, consider that you were sent on behalf of your ministry—”

“Easy Behar,” Minister Yule said, “Cody, you have been part of our Lighthouse club for several years. I’m disappointed that you missed the opportunity, for if they had gone to camp, it would have been easy, but was even easier if you had gone hiking with them. As a Golden Claw, you’d be just as capable as they were. And with no other activities, you could have brought along a bible, perhaps read it, and help your friends see what is wrong within themselves, help your friends find their true path in life, their true calling to serve the Lord, the same calling that you hear.”

“I hadn’t considered it like that,” Cody said.

“You would be prudent to consider it in the future,” Baris said.

“Where there is no guidance, a people falls; but in an abundance of counselors there is safety. Proverbs 11:14” Minister Yule said, “And the way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but the a wise man listens to advice. Proverbs 12:15” 1

Cody sat there for a moment, sipped on the tea, let the heat infuse inside him.

“I thought I had been doing that,” Cody said.

“Remember,” Minister Yule said, “Friendshipping requires being there when they need, or ask you to. Which they did.”

Baris tapped on a folder.

“I see you’ve applied for the seminary,” Baris said, “How can you hope to lead a flock of even a hundred when you’re having difficulties with three?”

“That I’m having difficulty with three proves that I need better training,” Cody said, “And, if I requested, I could get them involved in any congregation I started.”

“Then request it,” Baris said, “Because, right now, even if they survive judgment, they could not get married or raise a family of their own. Their souls are destined to be desolate—even Jude won’t save them.”

“I know, I know, it’s tough,” Cody said, “But don’t mistake things, I’m not giving up.”

“Then try harder,” Baris said, “These three have been your test—your seminary scholarship rides on this, for I, too, have to answer for how I spent taxpayer money and tithes. If you can’t manage three, then trying to train you for a thousand is pointless. There are others who can.”

“Go easy there,” Minister Yule said.

“Get them to confess their sins and start from there,” Baris said, “The easy way is the fast track to sin and eternal damnation.”

“I think I understand,” Cody said.

“Good,” Baris said, “For…” his finger went to the next page in his folder “This is now double or nothing. I see that your bible study is anticipating a visitor in the next several days—”

“They haven’t told me a thing about it,” Cody said.

“Do not interrupt your elders,” Baris said, “This visitor will only make it worse for you—get them to scrub, to call it off. Under all circumstances, do not let them make contact, but instead, let the visitor get stood up and move on.”

“Who is this visitor?” Cody asked.

“If you had been paying attention to your charges, you’d know already,” Baris said, “Now, if you wish to pursue seminary, you must convert them and you must stop this visitor from seeing them. Understood?”

“Yes,” Cody said.

“Sounds like a win–win,” Minister Yule said, “Your friends win, you win, and we all win; especially our Lord.”

“Amen,” Baris said.

“Cody, I suggest that you draft up a plan,” Minister Yule said, “Run it by myself or Mr. Baris for assistance—we’re here to help you. Right Mr. Baris?”

“Yes,” Baris said, meekly.

“I look forward to reading your reports,” Minister Yule said, “It’s getting late, so I suggest you return home to avoid any issues with curfew.”

“Yes,” Cody said as he stood.

“Peace be with you,” Yule said.

Cody left the room, walked back through the sanctuary of the Acts 1:8 Church, and headed for home.

* * *

It was dark when Cody returned to Old York Avenue, came to the familiar house, his father’s sedan parked in the carport. Cody removed his shoes as he entered the house, went up the stairs, into the narrow bedroom, his bedroom. His bookcase empty, the books somewhere in Alaska. He stripped his T–shirt, his jeans, and underwear. He glanced over at his sofa, the light of the city night glow illuminated the figure, Marcia was laying on it.

“Oh, hi,” Cody said as he came over to her.

She extended her hand, lifted his loose balls in her fingers, beneath his partially swollen dick, a couple notches above flaccid.

“Sorry,” Marcia said, “Shouldn’t have dumped all at once on you. I should’ve written when the first one came out positive, which only confirmed the symptoms.”

“Symptoms?” Cody asked.

“It’s pregnancy! It’s harsh on the woman,” Marcia said, “Of course I’ll have symptoms.”

“Shhh!” Cody hushed as he moved to sit on the sofa, next to her head. “Suppose I should be happy. What now?”

“I’m carrying it—that’s final,” Marcia said.

“Never disagreed,” Cody said, he knew where he was supposed to stand, with the constitutional amendment that ended that debate.

“Good,” Marcia said, “It’s not the baby’s fault if we’re young, so it shouldn’t be killed for our sin. Now, some adoption agencies—”

“He’s my son—” Cody started.

“Son?” Marcia said, “You mean daughter.”

“He’ll take after Dad,” Cody said, “He belongs to us, so we raise him.”

“She will require diapers, food—can we provide?” Marcia asked.

“Seminary provides a stipend,” Cody said, “It’ll have to stretch. Um…you’re a bit young for a job—”

“Think about that,” Marcia said.

Cody moved over to his bed, laid down on it, and the soothing softness came to him; the second thing he missed at camp over the summer, after Marcia left. Cody shuttered, realized he’d have to perform, as he was the man, and it was his duty to provide. Cody thought about reaching for his phone, to make the mental note to stop procrastinating and get his drivers license before he started seminary in September. Cody understood the irony, if it weren’t for the summer’s stint, he’d never had seen the beauty in Marica and his life would still be adrift.

Marcia snuggled, pressed into him, and pulled the blankets over them. Cody was content to know where his life was heading with the grace of God. He fell to sleep.

* * *

1 _The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version_ , Second Edition, Thomas Nelson Inc, 1971.  



	38. Bicycling

Wednesday, August 19th

Cody’s pant legs cleared his chain as he coasted on his green and silver mountain bike, with _Righteous Rider_ written in red on it, on Briarwood Avenue, until he swooshed to his right and coasted into the backyard. Cody leaned his bicycle against the back of Ifor’s pickup next to the three others in the matching colors of the Wild Trekkers, before he entered the basement door. Up the stairs, hard right at the front door, though the living room, and another hard right. He entered Ifor’s bedroom. Grant, Ifor, and Risley were standing there, naked.

“You rang?” Cody asked, remembering his friends were also his charges. “Don’t overdress.”

“Want to come mountain biking?” Grant asked.

“That’s the point,” Ifor said, “Four will be tight but fit.”

Cody knew how their plans could go, wanted to refuse, but the words, the advice, from the night before came through.

“I’m in,” Cody said.

“Good, your bike?” Ifor asked.

“You said so in your message,” Cody said, “It’s already by your truck.”

“Let’s go,” Ifor said.

Ifor led the way, his bare buttocks flexed as Cody followed.

“You’re going out like that?” Cody asked.

“Just am,” Ifor said.

“Where’s the rush?” Risley said, “In several weeks, we’ll have to put on boots and underwear.”

“Shameful,” Cody said and he knew he had his work cut out.

They went out the back, to the pickup. Ifor hopped up as Risley handed the four green and silver bikes up. Ifor used a bungee cord, tied them down, despite his loose balls and pubic hair showing no concern. Grant got into the passenger side first, Risley followed. Cody squeezed in and shut the door. Ifor got into the driver side, started the pickup; he reversed, and pulled forward as he drove onto the street.

Cody glanced down at Risley’s pubic hair and penis, wasn’t certain the best way to talk Risley into dressing, however, the friendship had to be rebuilt first before he could save them.

“I apologize for yesterday,” Cody said, “Sorta lost my temper.”

Ifor shifted gears, his right hand settled back to resting across his fluffy pubic hair.

“Forget about it,” Risley said, “I’d be pissed in your shoes too.”

“If you had any shoes on,” Grant quipped.

“It’s after asking for so many years,” Cody said, “To get booted—”

“Sorry man,” Grant said, “That was most unintentional. We know how badly—”

“I know the Lord has a plan,” Cody said, “It’s frustrating at times.”

“It was beautiful,” Risley said, “More ways than one. You missed out—did you see bears?”

“Mind you, best from a safe distance,” Grant added.

Ifor and Risley nodded.

“Quit, you’re making me jealous,” Cody said, “I’d have gone—knowing how things worked out.”

Cody was being honest, he’d never seen bears in nature, only at the zoo.

“Maybe we could’ve planned better,” Risley said.

“Hey!” Grant quipped.

“Well, it’s true,” Risley said, “Got there and no spare change of clothes—none.”

“Oh,” Cody said, “Tough.”

“Too late to change our minds,” Risley said, “So we saved what we had for the return, and stripped. You get used to seeing their dicks.”

“Explains a lot,” Cody said, remembering the belt buckle, the artifacts.

“Get this,” Grant said as glanced over Risley, “Our pilot turned on us, robbed us of those clothes and half our food.”

“We had the other half and a map,” Ifor said, “Figured it’d be easier to hike it out.”

“You could’ve come to camp,” Cody said, “I would’ve helped—”

“And miss the point?” Risley said, “It wasn’t about being naked for the summer. It was about spending our final summer, together, before going our separate ways.”

Cody understood as he was now having to worry about Risley’s kid sister, Risley was about to become a brother–in–law.

“Camp might’ve been good for you, but to us—” Risley said.

“With your so–called bible–study?” Cody said, “You needed to go.”

“Have you learned nothing?” Risley said, “I only go to church because Mom makes me—I don’t believe in it.”

“Nor me,” Ifor said.

“Nor do I,” Grant said.

“You can’t mean that,” Cody said, now worried, understood the serious concern with his friends, “Your faith—”

“Either you believe or you don’t,” Risley said.

Ifor took the off–ramp, circled around to another freeway. Grant deliberately leaned into Risley, and Risley pushed into Cody.

“Hey!” Cody said, having his naked friends pushing into him would likely lead to awkward questions later.

“It comes down that simple truth,” Ifor said, “Anyways, Jaimie is better at explaining it.”

“Who’s Jaimie?” Cody asked.

“Kid from Florida,” Risley said.

“Coming,” Ifor said, “He’s recruiting for an idea of his.”

“When is he coming here?” Cody asked, figured this was the visitor Mr. Baris had warned of.

“He’s being a bit elusive—likely winging it,” Ifor said.

“Are you going along with him?” Risley asked.

“Likely not,” Ifor said.

“Doubt it,” Grant said.

“What’s this idea?” Cody asked.

“It’s likely not for you,” Ifor said, “Lack of planning is one of the reasons I’m staying. Regardless of the issues here, I can resolve them, in time.”

“It’d mean leaving this all behind,” Risley said, “Just not ready for it.”

“The academy sounds like it’d be more fun,” Grant said.

“Academy—you mean, the police academy?” Cody asked.

Cody glanced at the three crops of pubic hair, their balls and dicks loose, wondered if the police academy was ready for them.

“Yes,” Ifor said, “Um…maybe you could too. Then, we’d be in it together.”

“You know I’m going to seminary,” Cody said. Though, he realized as he said it, wondered how it was going to work with Marcia’s pregnancy.

“It’s…where?” Risley asked.

“Woodburn,” Cody said, “Get my driver’s license, and I could stay with my parents until it’s done.”

“Police Academy’s in Salem,” Ifor said, “Close enough you could do both, maybe a modified curriculum. Always a need for a good chaplain on the force. I’ll talk to my Dad tonight.”

“I’ll consider it,” Cody said, “You know, you could attend one of the sermon hours, in person. You really haven’t heard Aubley Wurtz until you’ve gone to his studio.”

“No thank you,” Ifor said.

“Nope,” Risley said, “Heard enough of him.”

“No point in trying that,” Grant said.

Cody stewed for a bit, tried to think of a subtler way to get to them, until they were on a dirt road in the woods and rounded the corner. Ahead, a metal round bar blocked the road, a road lined with groves of twenty foot tall evergreen douglas firs to both sides.

“Can’t go much further,” Cody remarked.

“Don’t have to,” Ifor said as he brought the pickup to a halt, nudging it to a wide area beneath a couple of taller buffer trees, “Should keep this cool.”

Ifor opened his door, got out.

“You’re naked!” Cody stammered as Grant followed Ifor out.

“How observant!” Risley said, “Only been naked the whole ride—you’re blocking the exit.”

Cody opened his door, got out on the right side, Risley followed. Ifor was already lifting the green and silver bikes out of the back of the truck when he noticed three missing their seats.

“Your seats?” Cody asked.

“Seats are for sitting, we’re pedaling,” Risley said.

“Besides, could you imagine sitting on a seat all day?” Ifor said as he shook his butt, “You’d get crap on it.”

“Which is why you wear—something,” Cody said.

Ifor hopped out of the truck, his feet splatted into the mud.

“We chose here,” Ifor said as he put his hand onto Cody’s shoulder, “Because we’re aware that not everybody appreciates us going naked to do it.”

“Grr…” Cody muttered.

“Okay, so maybe we did change a bit,” Risley said, “Got to admit, it feels great.”

Risley’s hand shook his balls.

“Look,” Ifor said to Cody, “We—and I mean myself, Risley, and Grant—we brought nothing because we’re riding naked. We wanted your company, but if you wish to keep things holstered, that’s fine.”

“Yep,” Grant said.

“Though it’s going to get a bit muddy,” Risley said, “Ready?”

Cody’s mind went through his conversation of the previous evening. He wanted to fit in, he had been naked at camp with Marcia, and he needed to earn their confidence.

“Just a moment,” Cody said as he pulled off his red T–shirt.

Cody turned around, faced his butt toward his friends, and dropped his trousers, underwear.

“We practically did the same thing,” Risley said.

Cody took off his shoes and socks, folded his clothes as he put them onto the seat of the pickup.

“I’m keeping the seat,” Cody said.

“It’s yours forever,” Ifor stated.

Ifor placed the truck key into a metal box with a magnet, he placed it into the wheel well. Ifor mounted his bicycle, coasted to the gate with his naked butt up in the air, the balls dangled between his legs in front of the soft penis. Risley and Grant mounted.

“Coming?” Risley asked.

“Yeah, I’m getting the rear,” Cody said.

Cody understood the appeal the moment the sun soaked its heat into his penis and his balls freely dangling, but also the drawback as he came to pedal as his friends’ bare butts were in front of him. Ifor pulled a three sixty degree turn.

“Good,” Ifor said.

Pfffpt!

A reminder they had no mufflers on their butts as they kept pedaling along the road. Cody sat with his seat against his crotch, appreciated that his balls were hanging freely rather than being crushed inside pants. However, as soon as he worried about what his dick could do, it did, engorged itself until it was hard and very stiff. Without Marcia around, he didn’t like the explanations, refused to admit it.

“God dammit!” Cody stammered.

“Oh,” Risley said as he spun his bike around, “Cody’s got a woody!”

“Stop that,” Grant said, “Go play with Ifor.”

Risley peddled ahead, while Grant coasted enough for Cody to catch up.

“I’m amazed you stripped,” Grant said, “I lost the pool, but that’s fine.”

“You wagered?” Cody asked.

“Your dick’s handsome,” Grant said, his eyes leveled toward Cody’s crotch.

“You’re hitting on me?” Cody stammered.

“Sorry—we got used to it as we had no option to hide,” Grant said, “Humor made it pleasant and we lost our shame. Watch.” Grant’s right hand teased his glans on his circumcised flesh, drew out his erection into jutting forward. “Feel better?”

“No—it’s homosexual!” Cody snapped.

“Clothes don’t stop it!” Grant said, “Clothes don’t make you the man you are, rather, you are who you are.”

“You’d make for a good minister if you were religious,” Cody said, “Should give it a try.”

“Clothes only serve to betray you,” Grant said.

“How so?” Cody asked.

“They only hide secrets,” Grant said, “So, if you believe the bible, the Lord can see through them anyways. And, as they trap sweat, you’ll appreciate being naked by the end of the ride.”

“Doubt it,” Cody remarked.

“And you’ll understand your friends better, whether you want to or not,” Grant said.

“Got me there,” Cody said, “Likely better than I want—”

“But less than you need to,” Grant said, “Lets catch up.”

Grant peddled a tad harder, got ahead of Cody. Cody tried to peddle a tad faster, to keep from having to stare directly up Grant’s ass. Grant’s balls swung between the legs, beneath the anus. Grant’s buttocks joined the thighs in contracting, tensing up, and relaxing with each pedal. Cody tried to avoid, but curiosity drove his eyes back to stare at Grant’s rear. Strands of Grant’s wild bush of pubic hair peeked between the thigh and the hairs on the scrotum. A dark pupil inside the lighter stained well between the buttocks, it took Cody a moment to realize the growing wisp of brown was a movement; it gave way to a round, solid, brown chunk, one that waited until Grant leaned to the left in a fast turn before dropping to the ground; a turn to the right, and another chunk fell.

“Gross!” Cody exclaimed.

“See you do it prettier,” Grant said.

“Another reason to wear—” Cody started.

“And poop my pants?” Grant asked.

“You’d stop and—” Cody started.

“And stop?” Grant said, “Faster to shit on the go.”

“We’re not animals,” Cody said.

“Oh,” Risley started, “Did you—?” He laughed.

“Not funny,” Cody stated.

“Is too,” Ifor said.

“Here,” Risley said as he slowed until he was next to Grant. Risley leaned his butt over.

Curiosity drove Cody’s eyes, toward Risley’s bared anus, a bit pinker than Grant’s. Darker brown sludge dropped out.

“You—!” Cody snapped.

“Whose is stinkier?” Risley asked.

Ifor circled around, rode back toward them, turned to go forward, and a bit of light brown slipped out of him.

“Trying to make this a shitty day?” Cody stammered.

“You wanted to know about Alaska,” Ifor said, “We stopped caring, and its way more relaxing.”

Ifor slowed a bit, rode next to Cody. A glint of light, sun refracted off the yellow jet pouring out of Ifor’s foreskin as he peed.

“You’re animals!” Cody said.

“We all are,” Ifor said, “Professional runners—you know marathons, the best wear diapers, trade dignity for time. Like all animals, humans have to do it and had no shame in Eden. We found that in ourselves and lost our shame.”

“You were talking about being better,” Cody said.

“For weeks we spotted each other for dehydration and other problems,” Ifor said, “By not hiding it, by not judging—not really judging, by not holding back, you can tell when your friend is in need before they realize it, before they try avoiding it when you ask, and you can act. By not hiding it, by taking a shit for an audience, other secrets melt with it, small and big, the friendship grows stronger for it—not to mention, there’s fun in making a game of it.”

Risley smiled.

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” Grant said, “We know how you’re uncomfortable—”

“Thought I’d risk it,” Cody lied, as it was the trust he needed to gain with his skin.

“That’s the spirit,” Grant said, “Now, which one of us has the biggest dick?”

“Not going there,” Cody stated.

Cody glanced down at his, felt the relief as his was flaccid, before he glanced at Ifor. Ifor’s was hard as a rock, jutted out from beneath his fluffy brown pubic hair.

“You know, you’re really pushing my tolerance,” Cody said, “However, I promised…”

“Are you alright?” Grant said, “We could go back.”

“No,” Cody said, “I’ll manage.”

“You don’t look it,” Grant said, “Your balls say otherwise.”

“I’m fine!” Cody barked, before thought changed his mind and came up with an excuse. “Sorry, stress—getting expelled took its toll.”

Cody glanced at Ifor as they pedaled, the hard cock remained, and spotted no blushing, no shame, on Ifor’s face as the erection cast its shadows to the ground or the loose balls swung beneath it. Grant and Risley pedaled a bit ahead, both with soft dicks as they whispered between them.

“You’re serious you got expelled?” Ifor asked, “Because of us?”

“Yes,” Cody replied.

“Too bad you’re against the handjob,” Ifor said, “Else, I’d apologize with one.”

“Fine!” Cody snapped.

“No you’re not,” Ifor said, “But you’ll get there.”

Ifor glanced down at the trip computer on his handle bars.

“Expecting something?” Cody asked.

“Nope—the time,” Ifor said, “Sunny day and it’s glorious—almost.” Ifor’s left hand retracted the foreskin on his hard dick, the pink glans exposed. “Now it is.”

Ifor balanced himself on the pedals, coasted, his hard erection pointed forward.

“And recognize the Lord’s bounty,” Cody said, pointed at the trees, the hills around them.

“Maybe,” Ifor said as he stopped by a stream.

Cody came to a stop. Cody reached for Ifor’s trip computer, checked it to see the progress of the past hour, when he lifted his hand fast, stopped as it came into contact with Ifor’s hard erection. Cody froze, uncertain what to do, with Ifor’s foreskin brushed up against him, the terror of the sin filled Cody with dread.

“Cody,” Ifor said, “Giving me a handjob?”

“No, no!” Cody snapped as he pulled his hand back.

“Maybe you should,” Ifor said, “It’s alright, took us a long while to get used to it. Now, it’s fun.”

“It’s … it’s homosexual,” Cody said.

“Maybe,” Ifor said as he turned, his hard dick pointed toward Cody, and curled his fingers around it, “Maybe not.”

Cody shook his head.

“You’d do me in a minute,” Cody stated.

“You misunderstand,” Ifor said, “You’ve got a brain and self control, use it. It says a lot about our friendship that I’m not panicking, that I’m okay with you seeing my vulnerabilities including my dick, because I trust you.”

“A hardon around guys only means—” Cody started.

“A hardon means I’ve got a hardon,” Ifor said.

“Means you’re gay,” Cody said.

Grant came to a halt, along with Risley.

“Fine, since you’ve got a problem with it, watch me solve it!” Ifor snapped.

Ifor’s hand curled firmly around his shaft, stroked it. Seconds later, he paused as the off–white shot out, dribbled from his slit.

“Happy?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Cody stated as Ifor’s hard shaft softened, a pendulum of semen held on from the tip.

“You’ve been hard today too,” Grant said to Cody, “Stop being petty, besides, he’s fucked Ainsley Meriwether.”

“I never said—” Ifor started.

“She’s using birth control—seen her,” Grant said, “And you’ve been sleeping with her, not to mention the pictures I saw posted—”

“Pictures?” Cody asked. Though he wondered about the birth control.

“Nevermind,” Grant said, “Point is, he’s in bed with her, and happy about it. I’m happy for him too.”

“Thank you,” Ifor said to Grant.

“Are you—you’re having sex with her?” Cody asked.

“Interested in watching?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Cody said. Though he felt a bit of relief, knowing Ifor was into girls.

“Not to mention the two girls in Alaska,” Grant said.

“Every dick here has been inside a girl, except yours,” Risley said.

Cody bit his tongue, figured mentioning Marcia wasn’t the best idea.

“Unless you’d like to inspect my dick,” Risley said, “Let’s refill the water bottles.”

Ifor bent over as he filled his up first, took a sip. He put the bottle into the holster on his bike. Grant knelt by the stream.

“That’s untreated—” Cody started.

“Ours have filters,” Ifor said, “Um… should’ve thought to bring yours.”

“We could pray for a continued safe ride,” Cody said.

“I’m not,” Grant said as he stood up.

“Up to—” Risley started as he bent over on his spread feet, the anus bared itself to Cody.

“Our father,” Cody said, “Let us—no!”

Pfffpt!

Risley kept refilling his water bottle while the anus pushed out brown log after log, to drop near Cody’s bare feet.

“Am I the only one seeing the problem here?” Cody said, “Sodom and Gomorrah? Or, that we aren’t supposed to be naked after we got kicked out of the Garden of Eden?”

“Pretty much,” Risley quipped as he stood back up.

“You’re acting like animals that ought to be locked up in the zoo!” Cody exclaimed.

“Oh, you mean people will pay to watch me take a dump?” Risley asked.

“Even chimpanzees are better trained—” Cody started.

“Don’t insult the chimpanzees,” Ifor said.

“He appears to be sexually frustrated,” Risley said as he mounted his bike, “Perhaps a good bike ride—”

“Have you no respect for the bible?” Cody asked, last to get onto his bike to move, “To go around, showing off your dick—”

“So are you,” Risley quipped.

“Because you—” Cody started.

“Stop!” Risley said.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Grant said.

“Nice observation,” Ifor said.

“Then pedal ahead—we’ll catch up,” Risley said, “Or—come back in an hour or so.”

Risley and Cody walked their bikes back to the stream. Cody sat down on the grass, put his feet into the water, the coolness enveloped them. Risley sat down next to him, to Cody’s left, wrapped his arm around Cody’s neck.

“Sorry for the rough time we’ve given you,” Risley said, “We had weeks, you’ve only had hours. We all felt awkward in the beginning, same as you.”

“No, it’s not the same,” Cody said.

“Bullets fired at us, tried to kill us, gave us no choice,” Risley said, “We had to drop the pretense…inhibitions to survive. In the heat of the moment, because of need, we had to rely on each other, regardless of our dicks being out, and it saved our necks on a number of occasions. Tough to convey the need we had to abandon our shame.”

“There’s a difference between needs and desires,” Cody said, “A need borne of poor planning, nothing less in your failure before God.”

“You’re naked before God,” Risley said, “And in truth, to be naked before friends reveals the same. We went through a trial, naked, and the bonds of friendship grew strong—we’re not trying to supplant holy matrimony, but I think it’s close, maybe brothership defines it better. We missed you and want you to join our brothership—perhaps dropping you into the middle of it, without a life vest, was a lousy idea. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

“Perhaps I do,” Cody said, “My best friend is the Lord, our God, and his son, Jesus Christ. However, I do consider you friends—sounds like you became brothers, born for adversity, a kinship I’ll likely never know, for this isn’t my cup of tea. I also have to tread carefully, because, as we know, bad company ruins good morals.”

Risley snorted.

“I feel a bit better,” Cody said.

“Good,” Risley said, his fingers fiddled with the foreskin on his soft penis between his legs, “You’re the image of God, right? So, does God have a penis?”

“Um…there are conflicting opinions on that debate,” Cody said, knowing there was some, but that wasn’t a big debate.

“He made a man in his image, a woman to fuck,” Risley said, “So hiding my dick is hiding him.”

“Nice try,” Cody said.

A flick of gold, and Cody glanced down. Risley’s left hand held his penis upward, peed a gold arch over into the water.

“You…” Cody started, felt himself hyperventilating.

“Relax,” Risley said as his right hand gripped Cody’s shoulder, “A bit more water will lighten it up.”

“That’s not what I—” Cody started.

“And lets see you pee,” Risley said.

“No!” Cody said, “Can’t—you’re not supposed to do it for an audience.”

“Then what do you call drug tests?” Risley said, “Use a bush if you must.”

“Don’t look,” Cody said as he stood up.

Cody walked a few feet, to near a tree, back toward Risley. Cody held his dick, palms against his pubic hair, let the dark gold pour out. Cody turned around, Risley’s dark pubic hair served as an advertisement, drew Cody’s eyes back down to the penis while the arm reached over to his green and silver bike. Cody came those few feet back, stood while Risley grabbed the water bottle from the frame.

“Drink up,” Risley said, holding it up to Cody.

“Not thirsty,” Cody said.

“Drink it!” Risley said.

Cody grabbed the water bottle.

“You can’t lie,” Risley said. Risley’s right fingers grabbed Cody’s dick, pressed along the bottom, and squeezed a droplet out of the tip. “Your skin’s dry—” his fingers ran along the length, felt the scrotum of his balls. “Drink up so we don’t have to carry you out.”

Cody felt the surge of his penis stiffening faster than he could react, despite Risley having already let go.

“Your body is your most valuable possession,” Risley said, “Don’t hide from it and take care of it.”

Cody did drink, despite his erection standing out proud.

“You touched—” Cody started.

“To avoid a crisis,” Risley said, “You’re a Golden Claw, you know the dangers of heat stroke. Not, get every last drop.”

Cody finished the water bottle, held it up to show the point, before he returned it to Risley. Risley plunged it into the stream’s water.

“You peed—” Cody started.

“So what?” Risley said, “I lose one use of the filter’s lifetime guarantee. It’s running water, pretty diluted by now.”

Risley stood up, his balls hung loose beneath the exposed tip where the foreskin failed to cover.

“Lets find some good leafs to wipe your ass,” Risley said.

“You—?” Cody started.

“We watch each other’s back,” Risley said as he mounted his bike, “Don’t hold back when you see something’s wrong.”

“You’d like that,” Cody said, getting onto his despite his stiff erection loitering.

“Let’s catch up,” Risley said.

“Likely sniffing their butts,” Cody said as they started to move, slow at first.

“Not desirable,” Risley said, “Trust me—not desirable. And, yes, I’ve smelled Ifor’s and Grant’s. We never fancied that.”

“Oh,” Cody said, felt the relief within.

“What?” Risley asked, “Thought we were humping each other’s butts?”

Cody did not want to imagine that, he kept quiet.

“Disgusting to think about,” Risley said, “Now, crack a joke or two lightens the mood when we’re naked. Bit rough, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

They pedaled along.

“Nice boner,” Risley said, “Keep it up.”

Cody knew the bait, his own dick still firm, still excited.

“Naked and in the woods,” Cody said, “Wrong ideas can be drawn from that.”

“Gymnasium came from Greek,” Risley said, “Athletes for the Ancient Olympics were naked. While I know your church frowns on this and all, I think it’ll do you good to follow our example. Sure, God will know, but your church doesn’t have to.”

“Maybe,” Cody said. He didn’t want to endorse it, however, he needed to be accepted to minister to them.

“We’ll invite you next time Grant gets a day off,” Risley said, “So you can stand in front of a mirror and admire God’s handiwork in you. Appreciate what every muscle, every tendon, every cell of your being can do—no gimmicks, no tricks. Just you and your body. Now that we’re adults, what better motivation do you have to keeping yourself toned, in shape, than knowing your friends will see it. Gain a pound, and we see a new roll of fat. Keep it off, and that stomach of yours will still look good.”

“You’re looking?” Cody snapped.

“Of COURSE we are!” Risley said, “Want you to be comfortable with that. Realize you’re still Cody Austin Vankleeck, warts and all.”

“I’ve got a wart?” Cody said, “Where?”

“And one more benefit,” Risley said, “No clothes to get muddy!”

Risley rolled his bike through a mud puddle that sprayed upward onto his legs. Cody followed, felt the mud spray onto his legs.

“See?” Risley asked.

Cody fought the urge for a moment, but realized he had to blend in.

Pfffpt!

Cody leaned over, felt the bowel movement as he began to defecate.

“Taking your time?” Grant asked, “Thought we’d have to send out a search party.”

Cody tumbled off his bike, squatted to finish his dump onto the mud. Ahead of him, Ifor stood, Grant’s soft penis had a pendulum of off–white from it.

“Funny, very funny,” Risley said.

“Hi,” Cody said, meek.

“Good talk?” Ifor asked.

“Cody,” Grant said as he went for a nearby maple tree branch in the air, picked a few of its broad leaves, handed them over to Cody. “Unless you need me to wipe.”

Cody took them, wiped his butt.

“He’s getting there,” Risley said, “Still very conscious of it.”

“Need a handjob Cody?” Grant asked.

“No!” Cody snapped as he stood up, aware his erection was still there and his warm balls dangled loose.

Cody got back onto his bicycle, understood their stripping the seats, no chance of freshly used butts staining them.

“Let’s move,” Risley said.

“Says the one who loitered,” Grant said.

“He’s right,” Ifor said.

“And he wanted to mud wrestle,” Cody said, figuring the joke better.

“I never said—” Risley started.

“We’ll check the mud back at the pickup,” Ifor said, “Doubt you want to get those pedals in it.”

“Good point,” Risley said.

Grant and Ifor mounted their bicycles and pedaled ahead. Cody learned more about their butts, how their balls dangled, than he wanted to know as they kept trekking along these old logging roads.

Hours passed and the sun moved across the sky, before they returned to Ifor’s pickup—their skin pinker with splotches of mud. Grant picked some large maple leaves, gave a quick pass to his anus. Risley and Ifor did the same. Risley and Grant got into the cab of the pickup.

“Come on,” Ifor said, “Don’t stain the leather.”

Cody picked leaves as Ifor loaded the bicycles into the back. A couple of bungee cords held the bicycles down. Cody wiped his butt crack and stood back up. Ifor put his hand on Cody’s shoulder.

“You did well,” Ifor said.

Ifor made for the driver seat. Cody climbed into the passenger side, where Grant’s muddy feet were already on Cody’s clothes on the floor. Cody’s bare left hip pressed against Grant’s right before Cody closed the door.

“We’re naked,” Cody muttered.

“And we’re hot, hungry, and tired,” Ifor said as he started the engine, “Let’s go.”

Ifor turned around, drove forward.

“We’re all burning—” Risley reached over, felt Cody’s shoulders, “—all burning. Tomorrow’s going to be fun.”

“Can you feel me up instead?” Grant snapped as Risley’s arm dragged across Grant.

“Yeah,” Risley said, his hands massaged on Grant’s shoulders.

“Um…” Grant said as he mellowed out.

“You’re not as—” Cody started.

“Guess we got a bit exposed?” Risley said, “But yeah, we’ll still feel it.”

“Okay—whose’s house?” Ifor asked.

“At least those protesters are gone,” Grant said.

“Protesters?” Cody asked, feigning ignorance.

“Your church thought us gay,” Risley said, “Can you believe that?”

“Haven’t a clue where they got that idea,” Cody lied as he glanced at them.

All four naked squeezed together in Ifor’s pickup, four sets of dirty and muddy pubic hair; Ifor’s normally fluffy brown, Risley’s terse dark brown, Grant’s wild brown, and his own golden brown. Ifor’s stiffening dick kept its foreskin tight, Risley’s freshly juiced slit between the dime sized opening, Grant’s and Cody’s soft circumcised dicks. Three of them comfortable enough that Cody understood how the church could interpret it as it did.

“Play with yourself?” Grant asked Cody.

“No thanks,” Cody replied as he felt the fatigue.

Cody’s left hand fell down, slid as it rested on Grant’s thigh, until the edge was against Grant’s pubic hair, the pinkie drifted down to the gap between the dick and scrotum. Cody blacked out as he dozed.

* * *

Rush hour had already turned the Banfield Freeway, west of I-205, into a near parking lot. Risley watched as Grant touched Cody’s hard erection, the snoring still from Cody’s lips.

“Don’t,” Ifor said.

“No fun,” Grant said.

“His body, his choice,” Risley stated, knew how much Cody wasn’t at ease, best not to provoke the worst ideas.

“Alright!” Grant said.

“Besides,” Risley said, “Ifor can’t afford the distraction.”

“True,” Ifor stated.

Risley was aware, they were all naked, one accident would force them out. Trains of the light rail passed them several times before they got off. Grant shook Cody awake as they turned onto Strawberry Street, approached Risley’s house.

“What?” Cody asked before his amber brown eyes went across them, “Thought it a bad nightmare—only it’s much worse!”

“You need a comb,” Grant said as he pulled a knot out of Cody’s dirty pubic hair.

Ifor pulled into the driveway, parked in front of the detached garage. Cody had the door open, glared as he stood outside it. Grant climbed out next, followed by Risley. Risley glanced at Cody, pink skin, pink penis.

“Don’t fret,” Risley said, “You’ll get a girlfriend with that.”

Risley went to the back door, opened it. He glanced at the large plastic re–markable calendar, still marked with a starting date for college, but also with Marcia’s hair appointment. An explosion.

“Patriots in the second world war invoked the name of our Lord in their crusade against the atheist Nazi regime—”

Risley made for the refrigerator, grabbed a bucket half filled with fried chicken and cold potato wedges. Grant grabbed a large two litter of soda. Cody and Ifor followed as they went up the stairs, into Risley’s bedroom.

“Suppose you’re going to get cleaned up?” Cody asked.

“I’m hungry—later,” Risley said, “Have a bite.”

A large chime came from the grandfather clock downstairs, before being accented by gunfire.

“Time?” Cody asked.

“Six?” Risley said.

“Shit! I’m late,” Cody said, “Sorry, gotta get to church. Can I borrow—?”

“Sure,” Risley said.

Cody pulled a sleeveless white shirt, black jeans, and grabbed Risley’s Wild Trekkers belt.

“Why church?” Ifor asked.

“Tell you when I get back,” Cody said as his feet slipped into Risley”s shoes, “Later.”

Cody ran out.

“Convenient,” Risley said as he grabbed his tablet.

“Why not let him in on this?” Grant asked as Risley teased his penis stiff.

“He nearly had a heart attack today,” Risley said as he tapped his PIN onto the tablet, “Once he stops having one and tones down the religion, I’ll consider it.”

“Agreed,” Ifor said as he took the tablet from Risley, “Cody’s not material for this chat.”

Grant brushed at the mud caked into his pubic hair.

“She says ten minutes,” Ifor said.

“Good,” Grant said as he left the bedroom.

Risley followed, went into the upstairs bathroom. Ifor brought the tablet along, closed the door as Risley sat on the toilet. Grant climbed into the tub, sat down.

“Don’t think Cody was happy today,” Risley said.

Ifor stood in the tub while Grant ran the flexible hose on himself. Brown water swirled the drain.

“Give him a pencil and he’d list a hundred bible passages, in less than a minute,” Grant said, “Each one, justifying his distaste for it.”

Grant moved to wash Ifor’s back.

“Now that Cody knows—let’s give him the option to accept or refuse,” Ifor said, “He’ll likely still complain, but that’s Cody, and we know what Cody’s like.”

Plunk!

“He did warm up a bit,” Risley said as another log passed out of him, “Surprised he stripped, to be honest.”

Ifor ran the shower wand over himself.

“Fifty fifty on whether he accepts next time,” Risley said.

Chime!

Risley tapped on the tablet with his left hand, while his right wiped grabbed toilet paper.

“Hi,” Risley said.

“Where’s—” Maev asked.

Risley spun the tablet.

“Can you focus on—” Maev asked.

“Here,” Risley gave several taps, “You’ve got remote.”

Risley wiped his ass with the paper.

“I like that Grant,” Maev said as Grant scrubbed a soapy washcloth in the crack between Ifor’s buttocks.

“He does it well,” Ifor said.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

“Hurry up!” Marcia yelled.

“It’s going to be forever!” Risley shouted, “Go downstairs.”

Footsteps went down the stairs.

“Sorry, walls can be a bit thin—bathroom’s not been stuffed like my bedroom,” Risley said, “Let’s not go too loud.”

“Dorcia’s warming a bit—she’s appreciative of your efforts,” Maev said, “However, we need the chance to give the slip and not get noticed.”

“Just walk,” Grant suggested, “Naked if you have to.”

“That’s not very stealthy—it needs to be less conspicuous, especially for the first mile,” Maev said, “However, the trouble is, her family is guarding her—they may be armed.”

“Armed guards?” Grant asked.

“I could be wrong there,” Maev said, “We need at least an hour for a diversion—that’s tough.”

“Set a fire,” Grant said.

“I’m being serious,” Maev said.

“He’s right,” Risley said as he switched places with Ifor, “A fire would distract.”

“Shoot her brother first,” Grant said.

“I’m not murdering anybody!” Maev said.

“You’d be putting a dangerous dog down,” Ifor said.

“Okay, tie him up first,” Grant said, “Smoke inhalation is a much more believable cause of death. And, he’s close enough that a genetic test would confirm the remains as Dorcia.”

“No it wouldn’t,” Ifor said.

“Mind if I watch for a while?” Maev asked as Grant scrubbed Risley.

“Do it in person,” Grant said, “Better yet, wash Ifor, get your hands on him, feel his balls.”

Ifor blushed.

“Alright, alright ,“ Maev said, “I’ll think up something better, but if it’s not resolved in ten days, I’ll burn the place down, but I’m not killing her filthy brother even though he deserves it.”

“I’d say do it now, but agreed,” Grant said, “See you when you get here.”

“Could I talk you into Florida?” Maev asked.

“We’ll see—but want to see you here first,” Ifor said, “We’d love that before you go.”

Maev stayed connected as they washed themselves in the bathtub. They dried off, went back to Risley’s bedroom.

“See you around,” Maev said before she disconnected.

An incoming connection, and Risley tapped without thought. On his white sheet, Alfonso had a bit of off–white dew smeared to his circumcised dick.

“Finally—you’re long winded,” Alfonso said, “Hey, seriously, Jaimie is getting close and he’d like to visit you guys—is there good spot where literary types hang out? I suppose they closed your libraries—”

“We’ve got a good bookstore,” Risley offered.

Alfonso tapped.

“Strange—you do,” Alfonso said, “According to this, it’s the only non–Christian bookstore in the nation—been there for hundreds of years, last of its kind. Guess Portland loves its books.”

“That’s Portland,” Risley said, proud of his hometown.

“And I think you’ve got a group of people,” Alfonso said, “He’d love to see them, talk.”

“We’ll arrange it,” Ifor said, “When is he coming?”

“Aw, inside of a week,” Alfonso said.

“It’s tough to reserve—” Ifor said, “We need advanced warning or it’s not guaranteed. For instance, Sunday is bad, very bad—consider it out. And, the bookstore has to observe the Sabbath—it’s closed on Sunday too.”

“Any interesting points to visit?” Alfonso said, “Jaimie likes history—”

“Plenty,” Ifor said, “Lewis and Clark’s trail ended downriver on the coast, there’s even a national park there.”

“I’ll see if he’s good for Saturday,” Alfonso said, “I’d rather not pin the exact time down, for tactical reasons.”

“Understood,” Ifor said.

“Yep,” Risley said.

“So, meet him at the bookstore,” Alfonso said, “If not—well, he’ll have to assume it’s a trap and move on—”

“It’s not,” Ifor said.

“We can’t be too careful,” Alfonso said, “People in this town, where I’m at now, have burned libraries after a girl died from a botched abortion.”

“Good God,” Risley muttered.

“Yeah,” Alfonso said, “Jaimie’s sharp, but, all are vulnerable when the game’s rigged. Later.”

Alfonso’s picture vanished.

“Who’s Jaimie?” Grant asked.

* * *

“Jaimie Konnor Scott,” Baris said to Cody, “He intends to meet up with your friends.”

Dressed in Risley’s clothes, Cody was on the front pew in the Acts 1:8 Church while Baris stood in front of him.

“My patience in you is wearing very thin,” Baris continued, “Not only did you fail to report your friends for not attending camp, I heard that you went on a little mountain bike ride with them today—your sunburn, as I understand it, does not stop with any shirt line. If I were to see your butt, what would I see?”

“A butt,” Cody remarked.

“Not funny,” Baris said, “You were naked—”

“You said to join in—better to be friendly—” Cody retorted.

“Not by playing Adam and Steve!” Baris said, “For years, you were held up as an example of strong faith, the strongest in the Lighthouse club—you leapt at the assignment to rescue three souls, to turn them from their wicked ways and help them find Christ. Instead, it is steadily appearing like they have instead turned you away from the Lord—”

“That’s not true,” Cody said.

“Seminary applications require my signature—which I usually give,” Baris said, “The Department of Homeland Morality recruits from seminaries, and your time with the Lighthouse Club looks good on applications. However, in my judgment, your faith, your commitment, is too weak to ever be a successful graduate—no institute will take you in without my signature as it’d endanger their job placement rates.”

“My faith is strong,” Cody said.

“Then prove it,” Baris said, “Jaimie Konnor Scott is coming to Portland—stop your friends from meeting up with him. Do that, and we can continue the Lord’s work, together. Fail, and, unfortunately, we will have no further use for you.”

“Understood,” Cody said.

“Good,” Baris said, “Now—I understand your Bibles are still being shipped from Alaska. You can borrow mine to help with your task.”

Cody took the Bible.

“What if I fail—?” Cody asked.

“Then you’ll need to read it yourself as I’d consider you spoiled goods,” Baris said, “But that won’t be an issue, will it?”

“No,” Cody said.

Cody left the church, swung his leg on his mountain bike, headed for home.

…

Cody carried Risley’s clothes along with the leather bound bible underneath his arm as he returned to the Gillespie’s house. He entered through the back door, went up the stairs, where giggling came from Risley’s bedroom, the door slightly cracked ajar. Cody entered, when Ifor, Grant, and Risley were. Grant and Risley on the bed, while Ifor was on a bean bag chair.

“Thank God I was able to get a loaner for us to read,” Cody said as he held up the Bible, “Still naked? Likely didn’t bother to wash.”

Risley glanced at Cody, laughed.

“What?” Cody asked.

“They were discussing circumcision,” Grant said, “You know—where they cut off—” Grant pointed around his dick, at the gap by its shoulder “—Ifor’s isn’t.”

Ifor pulled back a bit on his foreskin.

“Clearly you were,” Risley said.

“And that’s funny?” Cody asked.

“Tell him your story,” Grant said to Ifor.

“Or ask your mother to tell it?” Risley asked.

“I can too, had to get the real one out of Lt. Ivinghoe,” Ifor said, “Apparently, Dad was at work, a rookie when Mom went into labor with me. Captain Sefton wasn’t at the time, so his squad lieutenant didn’t let him go. So, the midwife couldn’t cut the umbilical cord properly, so my Mom objected to her bringing anything that sharp near my penis.”

“Good call,” Risley said.

“Turns out that Dad’s health insurance wouldn’t actually pay for it unless it’s done at birth,” Ifor said, “Since then, they’ve tried saving up, but Dad’s been as keen on wagering the money on the final four, or the Superbowl, or at the horse track. Think Mom’s given up—or waiting for me to pay for it. Nope, I like it, intact thank you very much.”

“So enlightening,” Cody said, “I say—get civilized, be a man, and get it done!”

“Why break it?” Risley said as he fondled his own dick into a hard erection. “Watch this foreskin move!”

Cody watched. Risley leaned back on the bed, his hard erection jutted upward, and the hand stroked along it.

“It’s a sin,” Cody said, “You realize that, right?”

“Suppose so,” Risley said, “Feels great!”

“Of course!” Cody said, “That’s why it’s considered one of the great sins!”

“Three…two…one…” Ifor counted.

Off–white flew up out of Risley’s slit, came back down onto the pubic hair.

“Have you ever wanted to try?” Risley said as his shaft softened to lay in the pubic hair.

“Doesn’t know how,” Ifor suggested.

“I can jerk off too!” Cody sneered, felt the anger inside him.

Cody dropped his blue jeans, his underwear, and let his hard cock fly beneath the hem of his red T–shirt. He applied a bit of the olive oil that was on Risley’s desk, lubricated up his dick, and stroked fast. Cody felt the guilt, drawing up Risley’s sister in his mind, but he had to make the point and so Cody kept at it. Cody felt the tremble, stumbled, and watched as his white semen flew out into a series of small puddles across the wood floor.

“WOW!” Cody exclaimed, with a false sense of excitement as he put his hands to his jaw, “And I’ll give you the honor of cleaning it up!”

Cody bent over, grabbed his jeans and underwear, left the bedroom with the leather Bible. Cody slammed the door shut, went to the next door, and entered Marcia’s bedroom. He closed that door as he dropped the jeans and underwear; he leaned his butt against her desk.

“Swear it’s how many orgasms he can have in an hour!” Cody said as he pulled his red T–shirt off.

“He’s my brother,” Marcia said from her bed.

“I know—still, ought to be more to life than that,” Cody said, “It’s not a squirting contest—he needs a girlfriend.”

“He already has one,” Marcia said, “Well, I suppose that’s why he’s shouting out the name 'Dorcia’ in his sleep.”

Cody took a step, dove as he moved fast into the bed by her. As he laid down, his balls came to rest in the palm of her hand. He moved his left leg to wrap over her as he laid into her. He pulled the blanket over them, hear hand slipped between his scrotum and thigh.

“He’s supposed to find a girl, one girl,” Cody said, “Not a harem with boyfriends, and be happy as you go through life with that one girl.”

“Since when did Risley follow the rules?” Marcia asked.

“Never,” Cody said, and he knew the root of his problem, those three never followed any rule they despised.

Marcia’s fingers rubbed against his juiced balls, the tickle that put him to ease, and the fatigue swept over him. Cody went to sleep.


	39. Plan

Thursday, August 20th

“Shameful,” Ifor said as he watched the yellow shorts cover Grant’s slick sunburned penis early that morning.

“I’d love to pedal there bucknaked,” Grant said as he pulled on a matching yellow T–shirt, “But you know how that’d go.”

Grant got onto his bicycle in the backyard of the blue house of the Gillespie’s, rode off. Ifor entered the kitchen.

“How soon until you start the academy?” asked Alyce from the small kitchen table, her eyes on Ifor with his slimy sunburnt soft penis hanging there.

“Day after Labor Day,” Ifor said, feeling the reminder he should’ve used sunblock despite the aloe currently on his bare skin.

“You should be with your Dad, getting a head start,” Alyce said as she worked at her toast next to her oatmeal.

Ifor leaned over the table, unconcerned as his penis dragged on the cloth.

“I’ve got two weeks to enjoy life,” Ifor said, “Why rush things?”

“You ought to get that fixed and give yourself time for it to heal before you show up,” Alyce said, her eyes aimed at his reddened crotch.

“I like it the way it is,” Ifor said.

“That is not how the police operate,” Alyce said, “You will be made to conform.”

“I will take that under advisement,” Ifor said as he turned.

“And don’t forget to make a habit of saying your prayers,” Alyce said.

Ifor went up the stairs. Ifor paused, heard the motions and shuffling from Marcia’s bedroom, but entered Risley’s bedroom.

“Dear Lord, I’ll worship you if let me keep my foreskin,” Ifor said as he closed the door.

“Mom pestering you too?” Risley asked from the bed, his skin slick from the aloe from head to toe.

“Can we convert to a religion that forbids it?” Ifor asked as he sat on the bean bag chair.

“Can you persuade your parents to let you?” Risley asked.

“There’s got to be a way,” Ifor said, “I can’t believe—”

Knock! Knock!

“It’s me,” Cody said through the door, “Can we talk?”

“Come in,” Risley said.

Cody, with his sunburned skin, entered, naked, with his soft circumcised penis; his clothes and tablet and phone in his hands.

“Cool,” Ifor said.

“Sorry,” Cody said, “My nerves—I think that ride did more damage to me than I thought.”

Cody scratched.

“Hey!” Ifor said as he handed over the half–used bottle of green aloe, “Make you better after a bit.”

“That’s what’s on your skin?” Cody asked.

“Yeah,” Ifor said, “Try the bathroom.”

“About yesterday,” Risley said, “We kinda pushed you too hard, sorry about that. Make up?”

Cody reached, shook Risley’s hand. Cody began to slather the aloe onto his skin.

“We’re more comfortable naked, that’s all there is to it,” Risley said as he laid back on his bed, “I grew to trust Ifor with my balls and my life, wish my friendship with you was as strong as that.”

“You know, most people don’t share that opinion,” Cody said as he rubbed the lotion on his testicles, “Most people find some level of clothing to be best.”

“They’re missing out,” Risley said, his dick loose on his pubic hair.

“You’re not catching me putting anything on today due to these sunburns,” Ifor said as he focused on Risley’s slick loose balls between the spread legs, “Close friends like you, sure, let me know how my balls are doing. Still, I recognize the limits—I don’t plan to ride Max like this or go shopping or the academy like this.”

“Glad you’ve got those,” Cody said, “Heaven forbid you’ve gotta put something on.”

“See, you can be naked and intelligent,” Risley said.

“Stick to that second point,” Cody said.

“You’re jealous!” Risley said.

Cody sat on the bean bag chair next to Ifor, spread his legs, both loose balls dangled free.

“When’s the next bible study?” Cody asked as his fingers teased the penis into an erection. Ifor wondered about the topic change.

“Saturday—tentative,” Ifor said, “Got a guest speaker—”

“Could be nice, for, say Sunday?” Cody said, held his balls as he spoke, “Bible studies on Sunday aren’t unheard of—pretty common, popular.”

“Getting room in a church on a Sunday?” Risley asked.

“Best not to have it on a Sunday,” Ifor said, “He’s not the religious type, has a different point of view that’d be bad to have on a Sunday.”

“And this guest has a name?” Cody asked.

“Jaimie,” Risley said, “You’re being nosy.”

“Curious,” Cody said, “Is he going to try roasting the Bible? Smores between the main Gospel and Acts?”

“No,” Risley said, “He’s got an idea with merit, one he plans to discuss.”

“You’re signing on?” Ifor asked.

“Didn’t say that,” Risley replied.

“Cody should listen in,” Ifor said, “See if it works for him—be far different from seminary.”

“Or the police academy,” Risley said.

“You’re not going?” Cody asked.

“We’re going to the academy,” Ifor said, “I think he’s wasting his time, but he’s persistent, like you are.”

Cody tapped on his tablet.

“Scam,” Cody said as he rubbed his buttocks, “Don’t trust it. Feels like a multilevel marketing scheme—I can get you some swell knives. Fly in, take your money, and fly out, preferably the same day.”

“Not the same day,” Ifor said, “Good question, how’s he traveling?”

“If he’s cheap, the bus,” Risley said, “Given his age—likely. Doubt he’s got the funds for flying.”

“Multiple days?” Cody asked.

“Like I said, he’s recruiting,” Ifor said, “The Bible Study is one place, maybe the historical society. Might even drive him out to Fort Clatsop—where Lewis and Clark stayed during the winter of 1805-1806, more in spirit with his bright idea.”

“Sounds—wonderful,” Cody said, turning a bit toward Ifor, “But if you’re not interested, why let him come? Why not tell him to move along?”

“I kinda want to meet him,” Risley said, “I’ve heard enough from him before—it’d be nice to put a face to the words, see him in person.”

“Then…why…haven’t…I…heard…of…him…before?” Cody asked.

“Good question,” Ifor said to Risley. Ifor didn’t want to explain J to Cody.

Risley propped himself up onto his elbows, legs still spread toward Ifor and Cody.

“Like you read Bible forums, we read other forums,” Risley said, “And Jaimie liked the flavor of Portland based on what we’ve told him. He figures people here can help his cause. So, the bookstore and the bible study. After that—well, Jaimie likes to plan as he goes.”

“In other words, he’s winging it,” Cody said, “Sounds risky to join in such a venture. I’d advise to call it off—all of it.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” Ifor said, “The study, though, is still on.” It was the plan as he goes part that worried Ifor about the entire idea.

Cody’s phone chimed.

“Sorry—must dash,” Cody said as he stood, “Been a pleasure.”

Cody rushed as he dressed, left the bedroom, and walked down the stairs. Ifor closed the door, secured the latches.

“He seemed a bit off,” Ifor said.

“His Bibles are still being shipped, yet to show up,” Risley said, “Can’t say I’d miss them, but to Cody, they’re his most valuable worldly possessions, more so than even his balls.”

“It’s more than that,” Ifor said as he paced.

“How soon until Ainsley returns from Seattle?” Risley asked.

“Several days,” Ifor said, “Hopefully in time for the Bible Study.”

“Care to do something today?” Risley said, “Run to the coast?”

“I can’t keep running all over the place,” Ifor said, “You know, Dad will notice the dent I’m putting into the credit card. Being a cop’s not the highest of paying jobs, Mom makes more than him.”

“Pretty soon, we’re going to lose those days where we can afford to do nothing,” Risley said as he teased his dick, “Soon—get up, go to work, go home—and, if you behave, you can get your dick sucked at eight thirty, sharp. If you don’t shoot it off in under two minutes, you get to wait a full day for relief.”

Ifor sat with one leg on the bed, directly faced Risley’s stiffening hard dick. It jutted directly up from where Risley laid on the bed, and Risley’s fingers curled around the shaft. Risley’s hand and fingers moved, the foreskin slipped across the shaft.

“Your Mom wants us to get them cut on,” Ifor said.

“Jaimie’s idea is smelling better by the minute,” Risley said.

“We’re talking about leaving this planet,” Ifor said, “Plan poorly and we’re dead faster than waiting for pengus to come after us.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Risley asked, “Take the truck, tell your Dad thanks, and rescue Dorcia. Maybe we’d get a job somewhere else.”

Ifor watched as Risley stopped his strokes, the focus, and the fast pulsations along the hard cock. Squirt after squirt, Risley’s volcano unleashed, the magma flowed back down.

“It’s got you worried too,” Ifor said as his finger painted with Risley’s warm and sticky semen, “Whatever we do, we do it together, with Grant, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Risley said.

* * *

Cody felt the shirt irritate his skin as he arrived at the cedar shingled Acts 1:8 Church, entered. He walked across the sanctuary, around the altar, to the door on the other side. He turned and walked along the corridor, entered the office of his minister, who was there.

“What seems to be the trouble, young man?” Minister Yule asked.

“I need help, I need ideas on how to stop this Jaimie from seeing my friends,” Cody said, “I know he’s coming to town on Saturday, will be at the bookstore before crossing the river.”

“Know how he’s arriving?” the Minister asked.

“Ground transport—I’ll ask friends for a bit more later today,” Cody said, “But unless they’ve drawn up a map with directions, they’d have to meet up somewhere—I’ll wager the bookstore because it’s well marked and easy to ask for directions. Given their Bible Study is late in the evening, the bookstore will be first.”

“So,” Minister Yule said, “You’ll need to disrupt them from meeting.”

“Can’t we have this Jaimie arrested?” Cody asked.

“Let’s ask,” the Minister said as he reached for an old style phone with a curled cord running between the headset and the phone itself. After a series of button presses, the Minister spoke into it. “Behar….yes, Cody has some questions here, I’ll put you on speaker.”

Minister Yule pressed the button, the speaker came to life.

“This is Mr. Baris.”

“Can’t we have Jaimie arrested?” Cody said, “If you’re worried, then you’ve got evidence for sedition, and he can’t meet anybody behind bars.”

“Orders from above,” Baris said, “We are not to interfere with Jaimie Konnor Scott, or his traveling party; however, we are observing his affairs.”

“Can we have Ifor and Risley and Grant arrested?” Cody said, “It’d take seventy two hours to get them to a judge, and their friend will have left town.”

“There are…complications with that approach,” Baris said, “This task is a test for you Mr. Vankleeck. It does not look favorably to ask others to do your job.”

“I may need things,” Cody said.

“Then draft a plan,” Baris said, “I can get you a contact if you need technical expertise. Now, some of us have work to do.”

Click!

Baris hung up.

“Use the small meeting room,” Minister Yule said, “List all the ways you could slow your friends, or stop them, from meeting this visitor. Bring that back, and we can work from there.”

Cody left the office, went to that room, where he sat down and tapped on his tablet.

* * *

Risley opened the refrigerator, grabbed the two litre bottle of root beer, opened the top.

“You’re supposed to get a cup!” Marcia exclaimed.

Risley guzzled a bit down.

Burp!

“You’re disgusting!” Marcia said as Ifor entered the kitchen. She grabbed the kitchen towel.

Snap!

A whip tail of the towel smacked Risley’s balls.

“Ow!” Risley yelled as he held his free ranged testicles.

“Thank you for the guided signage!” Marcia said.

“You fat—” Risley started as he began to run after her.

“Whoa, whoa!” Ifor said as he gripped Risley’s shoulders, “She’s not worth it.”

“You saw—” Risley said.

“My place,” Ifor said, “Besides, Ainsley sent me a message.”

“She did?” Risley asked.

“Grab your clothes,” Ifor said.

“Why?” Risley asked.

“That truck’s being parked when I get home,” Ifor said, “It’ll be on foot after that—or bicycle. Neighbors might complain—unless you waited past curfew.”

Risley ran up the stairs, into his bedroom.

“Where’s Cody?” Marcia asked.

“What’s he mean to you?” Risley asked.

“I see you, Ifor, Grant’s plumbing, so that leaves Cody,” Marcia said.

“Dunno,” Risley said as he grabbed a shirt and purple underwear.

“Those aren’t enough,” Marcia said.

“They’re marketed as shorts,” Risley said, “So, by law, they’re not underwear even though they look it. Underwear is white!”

Risley shook his butt at her before he went down the stairs. Risley and Ifor left the house.

“What’s with Ainsley?” Risley asked.

“According to her message,” Ifor said as they got into his pickup, “She got bored at the convention, will meet me at my house.”

“And you’re bringing me along?” Risley asked as Ifor backed out of the driveway.

“Sure,” Ifor said, “Be good for Ainsley to have an audience when we…you know.”

“Sharing?” Risley asked.

“You’d have to ask her,” Ifor said.

“So, change our Bible Study into a sex club?” Risley asked.

“Not a bad idea,” Ifor said, “But don’t go advertising because I don’t think your Vicar would be appreciative of it.”

“No,” Risley said, nor did he want to imagine the reaction either.

Ifor drove the pickup around the corner from Briarwood, onto the grass of the backyard, parked. Ifor got out first, Risley second.

“Um…” Risley said as he saw the blond haired man. Six inches over Ifor, muscled over in a black leather tank top, was a teenager, older than either Ifor or Risley. Risley couldn’t quite place the face.

“Excuse me,” Ifor said to him.

“Is this you?” the boy asked as he handed a picture over, “I’m Mike Meriwether and Ainsley’s my little sister.”

“She said she’d be—” Ifor started.

“Like I’d use my name,” Mike said, “Is that you?”

“Seems like it,” Ifor said as he blushed, “We—she—”

“You defiled her!” Mike exclaimed, picking Ifor up by the shoulders, and slammed Ifor onto the grass. Mike knelt on him, “Teach you a lesson!”

“Hey!” Risley shouted.

“Want to lose your teeth?” Mike asked Risley, “It’s between me and your friend.”

A punch to Ifor’s gut. Another punch and Ifor grabbed the wrist, pulled, tumbled Mike to the ground as Ifor stood.

“Oh this is how it’s going to be?” Mike asked.

A swift kick, Ifor nailed Mike between the legs, however, Mike grabbed Ifor’s foot. Mike twisted and Ifor fell to the grass.

“Really tough?” Risley said, “Picking on a NAKED kid half your size?”

“Talk to Ainsley!” Ifor snapped.

“It’s your dick in her,” Mike said as he pinned Ifor to the ground.

“Going to kill her boyfriend?” Ifor asked.

“Not right now,” Mike said, “You’ve had your warning, this is it. Next time your hide’s going six feet under.”

Mike let up, walked off the lawn.

“Here,” Risley said as he extended a hand to Ifor. “Sorry.”

Ifor stood, went for the house. Risley picked up the picture as he followed, a snapshot of Ifor and Ainsley in the pickup truck, Ifor’s hard erection into her.

“Yes, it’s me,” Ifor snapped.

“Did you do it safely?” Risley asked.

“She had a sponge in her!” Ifor said, “Of course.”

Risley and Ifor went up the steps, through the living room, and up again, entered Ifor’s green bedroom.

“I’m not half his size,” Ifor said.

“Yes you are,” Risley said, “Okay, so I exaggerated, but it worked.”

Risley stood there as Ifor laid face down on his bed.

“I’ll sleep,” Ifor said, “Might be better if you went home, I’ll come over later.”

“No,” Risley said, “I’ll be downstairs.”

Risley went back down to the basement, arranged the billiard balls on the pool table, and began to play against himself.

* * *

Heavy weight in Cody’s backpack on his back as he walked in the dark, as dark as a city could get at night, but still be alive, as he walked along the north side pedestrian path of the Steele Bridge over the Willamette River, the path went between the ornate metal work and the antique metal bumper. Cody slowed down as he approached the massive lattice of beams, and eyed it.

“Lord,” Cody said to himself, “Protect me.”

Cody pulled a dark crowbar out of his backpack, jumped the short bumper, over to the caged door on the east pillar. Cody placed the crowbar against the door and pried until the door yielded. Rumble of a train passing on the other side of the stairs he stepped onto. Cody closed the door before lights of a passing car illuminated it up.

Cody wanted to hear the encouraging words of the Lord as he was doing the work of Angels. He climbed the steps that hugged the steel beams; trembled as he felt the moving cars and the light rail cross the bridge. He heard the river even further down. Cody reached the top of the structure, two hundred seventy feet above the water blow.

“Lord, guide my hands,” Cody said as he glanced at the cables on the one end.

Cody opened his backpack, took out an angle grinder, hooked it to the large sealed lead acid at the bottom of his backpack. Cody put on goggles and earplugs; he revved the blade. Sparks flew as he cut all but one of the cables. Cody breathed deep and took the blade to cut part way through the remaining cable connecting the lower deck to the counterweights.

Creak!

Cody heard the groan as that remaining cable stretched a bit, the steel structure grew accustomed to the new sagging to one part of it. Cody turned on his head lamp before he took out a vial of liquid from his side pocket. Cody used the dropper, and dispensed exactly three drops onto the fragile few remaining strands of cable.

“Lord, bring me home safely,” Cody said as he felt the new sway in the wind.

Cody repacked the grinder, the vial, and went down the stairs as fast as he could.

…

Friday, August 21st

It took Cody several hours to return back to his house as he avoided the bus. He entered the garage, put the angle grinder and crowbar back, left his backpack behind, and kept moving. Cody came to the Episcopalian Church of the Redemption, went down the back steps to the basement, punched the code to unlock the door, and entered the security alarm code in the panel inside.

“So far, so good,” Cody muttered, “By the grace of God.”

Cody crossed the basement social hall, went up the stairs, into the small set of corridors, and entered Vicar Tyrall’s office. Cody sat at the desk, grabbed a sheet of church stationary. He glanced at an old sermon before he grabbed the Vicar’s fountain pen, and put the quill to the paper.

“Dear Mr. Risley Gillespie,” Cody started writing.

After he finished writing, along with a forged signature, Cody stuffed the letter into a church envelope and addressed the envelope. He used the nearby pen knife to cut out a used postage stamp and pasted it onto the envelope. Cody grabbed it, left the church. A short while later, Cody came to Strawberry Street, where he put the envelope into the mailbox, before he entered through the unlocked kitchen back door.

Up the stairs, into Marcia’s bedroom, where she was. Cody stripped as quietly as he could, climbed in. He cradled her, his chin pressed into her shoulder, and he felt her stomach; wondered about the kid to be as he drifted asleep.

* * *

Risley woke to a loud stomp below the floor and Grant’s balls against his right hip; Ifor on the floor. Grant’s snores still there near his ear.

“I don’t want to go,” Marcia protested.

Intrigued, Risley stepped over Ifor and left his bedroom. Risley stopped at the top of the stairs, to encounter Maria halfway down the stairs, glaring down at Alyce at the bottom. Marcia in her bra and panties, while their mother was in a light blue blouse and dark slacks.

“This is important to your father,” Alyce said.

“Then he can go,” Marcia said.

“It’d mean a lot to him to have his family there,” Alyce said.

“Then why isn’t he going?” Marcia said as she pointed at Risley standing there, naked.

“He’s got a bible study,” Alyce said.

“It was written thousands of years ago—what’s left to study?” Marcia asked.

“You don’t study the bible,” Risley said as he quoted Cody, “It studies you.”

“The devil did it—the end!” Marcia said.

“Have fun,” Risley quipped.

“No fair—you didn’t even ask if I had plans,” Marcia said.

“Do you have plans?” Alyce asked.

“No,” Marcia said, “Give me time to think of something.”

“Then it’s settled,” Alyce said, “Marcia, I expect to see you in the car, in thirty minutes. Risley—don’t burn the house down.”

“I’ll try not to,” Risley said.

Alyce glared.

“Just kidding Mom,” Risley said.

Alyce vanished. Marcia stormed up the stairs, shoved Risley aside, and went to her room. She started to cry.

“So unfair!” Marcia moaned.

Risley walked to her doorway, thought he might have seen the comforter move, but focused on his sister.

“Live’s not fair,” Risley said.

“You—” Marcia threw her pillow at him.

“Pillow fight?” Risley asked as he threw the pillow back at her.

“No—no!” Marcia said, “Wish you were dead!”

“Almost got your wish,” Risley said, “Sorry for disappointing you by living!”

“Shut up!” Marcia snapped.

“Love to stay and beat you some more—but I’ve got a Bible study to plan,” Risley said, “You know, assigned reading—”

“You? Read the Bible? Ha!” Marcia shouted.

Risley returned to his bedroom, closed the door. Grant was already posed over the edge of the bed, his fingers teasing the foreskin on Ifor’s soft penis, it began to stiffen.

“What’s that all about?” Grant asked.

“Dad’s got some ceremony in California to go to—some veteran appreciation thingy,” Risley said, “I’d have to be crammed into a car with the likes of her for a whole day! Who could tolerate her?”

“She could have a boyfriend,” Ifor said.

“Her? Nobody likes her,” Risley said, “Well—we may as well plan.”

“Thank you for volunteering,” Grant said, “Got to dash before Dad gets mad. You know, work, work, work.”

Grant grabbed his T–shirt and shorts.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Risley cracked the door, stood between it and the frame.

“You’ve got mail,” Marcia said as her eyes drifted down, “Cover up that disgusting thing!”

“Blow me!” Risley said.

“Disgusting,” Marcia said as she handed over the envelope. Ifor took it.

Risley stuck his tongue out, Marcia returned to her bedroom. A kiss to his ear.

“Later,” Grant said as he left.

“Um…this is serious,” Ifor said as he read the letter, his hard erection jutting outward from beneath his fluffy brown pubic hair.

“At least the worst of this sunburn is over,” Risley said as he scratched at his skin.

“You’ll be appealing in days,” Ifor said, “Serious.”

Dear Mr. Risley Gillespie,

Due to a mixup on schedules, the pest control conducted an extensive fumigation today, occupancy of the church cannot be had until Sunday. I was unable to get a hold of you on the phone and therefore had to write this letter. I apologize for the inconvenience and will discuss a new time after Sunday’s service.

Reverend Vicar Lawson Tyrall.

“Jaimie’s coming Saturday,” Ifor said, “I doubt we want to hold him up.”

“Coming!” came Marcia’s shout as she went by the door.

More foot stomps.

“Well Mom and Dad are gone, it’d be tight here,” Risley said, as he reached for a proper pair of shorts, “Still, lets talk to the Vicar.”

“It’s gas city,” Ifor said.

“Maybe he knows of another church that has an opening for Saturday,” Risley said as he pulled his white sleeveless shirt on.

“Sure,” Ifor said as he reached for his green shorts and T–shirt, “I can tolerate these—little while longer.”

“As much as I don’t think Jaimie’s idea is great,” Risley said, “At least he understands the evils of getting dressed if he’s having us fly naked.”

“Weight was their justification,” Ifor said as they went down the stairs. They left the house and watched the blue sedan take off. “But regardless of the temptation, I’d like to live—can’t have sex if I’m dead.”

Risley and Ifor headed for the church, letter in hand.


	40. Bookstore

Saturday, August 22nd

Risley nibbled on a slice of cold pizza as he came into the living room Saturday morning.

“This sofa—comfy,” Grant said, “Rarely do I sit here.”

“His old man’s camped out on it,” Ifor said, his soft penis draped over his balls as he sat on the armrest.

On the large screen on the wall, floor to ceiling, was the muted news from KOPTV. Risley caught a couple of glances, his balls were doing fine when Cody entered the living room.

“It’s a disease,” Cody said as he shook his head.

“So?” Risley said, “Being declared dead shook Mom and Dad up, don’t think they care.”

“Oh, they do,” Cody said, “And so does the Lord.”

“You already know we’re like this,” Risley said.

“Hey!” Grant said as he dialed up the volume with the remote, “Listen to this.”

“The Steel Bridge is closed,” said the lady reporter, “Apparently, several of original cables broke. Engineers are assessing it, but expect this bridge to be closed for most of the weekend—lets hope they figure something out in time for the Monday morning commute. All light rail is being rerouted the Burlington Northern Bridge.”

“Wow,” Risley said, “It was inspected, like, last month—you pick things up when you have to shadow Mom at her job.”

“So, you said your parents—?” Cody asked.

“Out of town,” Risley said.

“You didn’t go?” Cody asked.

“I’m responsible,” Risley boasted.

Cody spat.

“Get your mother’s eyesight rechecked for her driver’s license,” Cody said, “Obviously bad.”

“Cody,” Ifor said, “Either chill or get the fuck out!”

“Sorry man,” Cody said as he left.

“Bit rude,” Grant said.

“It’s her house!” Ifor said, “Remember, a Golden Claw is supposed to be cheerful, and respectful.”

“We got kicked out,” Risley said.

“Doesn’t change the oath we took,” Ifor said.

“Um…” Risley said as he glanced at the screen, the trains backed up, the freeways and roads beginning to clog.

“Suppose we best head out, like now,” Grant said, “Um…any details for this Jaimie? Like exact time?”

“Suppose we could talk to Alfonso,” Risley said.

“Why not Jaimie, directly?” Grant asked.

“He’s not always available,” Risley said, “Here, lets go and try to chat him up.”

“We need coordination on this,” Ifor said, “I don’t want to be talking on J in public.”

“Okay,” Risley said, “I’ll stay here, got your phone?”

“Upstairs,” Ifor said as he went for the hall.

“I’ll go with Ifor,” Grant said, “Ris, see if you can’t talk Maev into a little arson—give that Danny the rotisserie treatment, survival is optional.”

“We’ll see,” Risley said as he tapped on his tablet, let it show up on the large screen.

Ifor returned, phone on an armband on his right arm, otherwise naked with his brown pubic hair, the balls behind his soft penis.

“Got it,” Ifor said as he dialed, it buzzed on Risley’s tablet.

“Good,” Risley said as he accepted the call.

Risley glanced at the two pairs of bare buttocks leaving out the front door, before Alfonso came to the screen.

“Hi Risley,” Alfonso said.

“Ifor and Grant are on their way, now,” Risley said.

“Good,” Alfonso said, “I think Jaimie’s on the freeway now—an hour or two south of Portland. Do you know Corvallis?”

“One of the bridges is out,” Risley said, “Car traffic has like, nine other bridges to choose from—though not an issue if he’s coming in on I-5. The rails—not so much.”

“Good thing he’s driving,” Alfonso said.

“So, he’s riding with somebody?” Risley said.

“Ivonne is traveling with him,” Alfonso said, “And they picked up a couple of people, so it’s four, as I recall. So, are you coming to Florida?”

“Going to wait until Jaimie speaks,” Risley said.

“Make up your mind quick,” Alfonso said, “We’re not holding this up for anybody.”

“Understood,” Risley said.

* * *

Ifor made it to Briarwood Avenue, a foot behind Grant’s beautiful bare butt. They went around to the back of the house, and got into the pickup. Ifor pushed on the clutch, put the stick shift into neutral, and turned the key.

CRANK! CRANK! CRANK!

“Out of gas?” Grant asked as Ifor pressed the gas.

“Should be half a tank—no—shit,” Ifor said as he tapped at the gauge, the needle below empty.

“Should’ve filled it—” Risley said through the phone.

“No shit Sherlock,” Ifor snapped.

Ifor caught Grant’s turning of the head, glanced over his own shoulder at the empty truck bed.

“Where are our bikes?” Grant asked.

“No point in trying to use this,” Ifor said as he got out of the pickup.

“Light rail,” Grant said as he got out.

Ifor and Grant began to walk, fast.

“Timetables are lousy,” Risley said.

“Give it a shot,” Ifor said.

“We’re naked,” Grant said.

“Rehearsal for the bike ride,” Ifor suggested as they made it for the station.

Mutterings about the delays and the crowding gave a natural shield to their pubic hair and the dicks hanging loose.

“This sucks,” Grant said as the train slowed down.

Ifor and Grant boarded the crowded train, and stood. Ifor was uncertain who brushed against his penis, nor who spotted it, however, he held onto the railing above. Next stop, even more people squeezed onto the train. Halfway to the stop beyond, Risley’s voice came through Ifor’s phone.

“Get off!” Risley barked, “Get off!”

Ifor pulled the stop cord, sucked in his stomach, uncertain whose hand his dick dragged across.

“Excuse me,” Grant said as he made his way past people, his butt in the face of seated riders, to the door.

Grant got off with Ifor, along with a mild applause at them departing. Ifor and Grant watched the train move, only to stop a few hundred feet ahead, behind one of a fleet parked on the rails.

“Bus?” Grant asked.

They began to walk.

“Don’t bother,” Risley said, “It’s only going to get worse trying to get downtown. Three things—one, the Burlington Northern bridge decided to go up and is now stuck open, which means that no rails can get you there. Second, many bus drivers have called in sick, some work slowdown. Third, somebody calling themselves the AntiChristCrusaders called in bomb threats against the bus system and light rail and the airport and the Burnside Bridge. Traffic’s a mess across the river.”

“One option left,” Ifor said, “Run.”

“Agreed,” Grant said.

“Call you when we get there,” Ifor said as he pressed his phone.

Their toes curled, gripped the concrete, their heels hit with each stride, used grass where they could. Cars honked as their dicks flopped with each street they crossed. It took longer than ordinary, ran around the police stopping every bus as they ran past toward the Broadway Bridge.

“Must be serious,” Grant said as he began to piss with his stride.

Ifor’s eyes caught the yellow flurry in every direction as Grant peed, Grant’s dick flopped at will as they ran across the bridge.

“Balls out or bomb—tough call!” Ifor said.

They came to a halt at the traffic light, Ifor pressed the pedestrian button, squatted, felt the release and heard the chunks drop beneath him.

“On the bridge?” Grant asked.

“Sorry, had to,” Ifor said, “Don’t step in it.”

Ifor stood. They returned to a run as the signal turned for them, south along Broadway. Ifor’s dick squirted a bit of yellow as they turned onto Crouch Street. Ifor’s erection was stiff as they came to a halt and joined the back of the line into the bookstore, an hour and a half after they had started running. They breathed deeply.

“You’d think…” Grant panted.

“Catch…breath…” Ifor said.

Ifor wiped at the sweat on his brow.

“Maybe should’ve talked your Dad—” Grant started.

“Likely busy and—” Ifor said “A moment.”

Ifor tapped on his phone on his armband, lifted it to his ear.

“You can lick my filthy ass,” Ifor exclaimed.

“Sounds great,” Risley said.

“You’d like that?” Ifor said, “You knew we were running—because this city still relies on two hundred year old bridges. Now, I need to know what he looks like—”

“Fucking moron would miss it!” Risley said.

“Fine!” Ifor shouted, “I won’t apologize if you screw it up!” Ifor tapped the phone off.

“Did he give a description?” Grant said, “You’ve never—”

“I’ve never seen a picture of him,” Ifor said, “Said it’be obvious.”

Grant pulled open the door, their bare feet stepped onto the tile, smoother than the pavement.

“More barefeet,” one of the security guards said.

Ifor wondered a bit, as his hard erection wasn’t easy to miss. They passed through the metal detectors, went for the stairs.

“Dad doesn’t like me going barefoot on the job site,” Grant said, “Still do.”

“On the job?” Ifor said as they started up the stairs, “Guessing barefeet is also Jaimie.”

“Good guess,” Grant said, “Or we could….”

Ifor’s eyes landed on it when they came to the aquamarine colored room. Ahead, in a wide area with chairs around him, stood a dark haired teenage boy with dark pubic hair over a stiffening erection, the foreskin retracted. A small crowd was around him, mostly sitting, and watching the boy pop his boner. Ifor recognized the mole at four–o–clock and several inches from the right nipple.

“Remind me to apologize to Risley, that’s Jaimie,” Ifor whispered to Grant, “Later.”

Ifor recognized Peace on one of the chairs.

“Lemme guess, you studied his dick?” Grant whispered.

“Shove it,” Ifor retorted.

“An experiment into a more open society,” Jaimie said, in a fruity deep voice, silvery smooth to the ear, “I’m driven by faith in my fellow humans, and I’d like to help a hundred shed their shackles and follow me. I can’t take everybody, so the rest, I’d love to enlighten and have their assistance.”

The small crowd rushed inward, hands that pushed and felt the boy before he relaxed several moments later.

“You dropped this,” said a younger boy, a hand tried to hold a sticky white liquid.

“Keep it,” said a young man, a security guard, “Souvenir.”

“Enough!” shouted an old lady in a frail voice.

The crowd cleared away from Jaimie and his rapidly softening dick, the foreskin stayed bunched up against the shoulder of his glans.

“I’ll support your cause,” said an old lady, “If so many are startled by a nude boy that they need to check his physique, then we need to make it more common—doubt you’ll find that on Earth.”

“I’ll send a dildo,” said another lady next to the first, “We’re too old—”

“Are not,” the first old lady said, “They don’t have the room—”

“I don’t have long,” Jaimie said, “It’s a tight timetable. Use that address, we’ll give you all the details you want.”

Ifor spotted the other three naked teenagers nearby, a boy with darker brown, a girl with red, and another with brown. Ifor suspected the red haired to be Ivonne, however, he didn’t recognize the other two.

“Convention?” Grant muttered to Ifor.

“Imagine Cody’s heart attack,” Ifor whispered.

“Don’t tell him,” Grant said, “Are they all coming to the Bible study? And the others?”

“Nice dicks, look suckable,” Ifor said, his hard erection still up. Ifor knew he wouldn’t mind giving either one of those boys a blow.

“I meant the people,” Grant quipped.

A young man, in his twenties, went over to the table with a stack of pictures, set them on the table, and laid down a pen.

“Autographs,” the man said.

“What?!” Jaimie stammered, “Um…alright.”

Jaimie moved his butt onto the table, until his scrotum touched the edge, sat. His feet touched the carpet, and the legs spread apart. His dick was soft, hung over his balls over the edge, it was a good inch below his butt, a dick that came out of a thick, dark, crop of pubic hair, hair with dark curls that filled up the canyon to the top, where the boyish V crossed into his forest.

“Stop drooling,” Grant whispered to Ifor.

Ifor and Grant approached the table, where the glossy eight by ten inch pictures were. Pictures with a front view of Jaimie, from head down to the testicles beneath a hard erection.

“Getting me one?” Ifor asked Grant.

“With what wallet?” Grant asked.

Jaimie signed to the bottom of the stack as the others cleared away. He rubbed his wrist before his blue eyes came up to Ifor and Grant. Ifor’s erection still hard and firm.

“You fit WoodyElf’s description,” Jaimie said.

“Obvious?” Ifor asked.

“A T–shirt might’ve worked better,” Jaimie said, “Yes, it’s obvious. Glad to see you’re buttered on this side.”

“Side effect of our time in Alaska,” Grant said.

“Oh—it’s _you_ guys!” Jaimie said, “Should’ve guessed, see where you’re coming from, and you obviously know how great it feels.”

“Glad to see you made it,” Peace said as she came up, a tie–dyed T–shirt over her blue jeans, “Where’s Risley?”

“It’s rough—public transport’s not available,” Ifor said.

“Good thing Jai drove me,” Peace said, “But it’s a two seater.”

“We’ve got a car,” said the other boy, brown hair.

“Oh, introductions,” Jaimie said, “This is Ardley.”

Ardley shook Ifor’s and Grant’s hands, stood with his two balls distinctly behind the partially engorged intact penis beneath the brown pubic hair. Ifor took a moment to study the crop, not full, with a slight curve to the shaft.

“Nice to meet you,” Ardley said.

“You may know Ivonne, she’s got the red,” Jaimie pointed to the red haired girl with a red bush standing next to the one with brown, both giggling, “Other is Starla.”

“My girlfriend,” Ardley said, “Think we can fit ya.”

Ardley led the way, with Ivonne and Starla next to him. Jaimie walked next to Ifor and Grant.

“Glad you approve,” Jaimie said.

“Huh…oh,” Ifor said, before he realized his hard cock was still out, still showing its approval for Jaimie’s intact penis.

“I wouldn’t run around naked if it bothered me,” Jaimie said as they left the store.

“I thought you’d be alone,” Grant said.

“You know,” Jaimie said, “Most seem to think tits and dicks ought to be shrouded by…well, anything. However, I’m here to convince you into going, not scaring you away.”

They climbed up the steep ramp to the parking garage, toward a yellowish gray sedan with Wyoming license plates parked too close to the wall on the driver’s side. Jaimie opened the back passenger door. Ardley climbed in, followed by Ifor and Grant; Starla pushed into Grant’s right side, bare hip against bare hip.

“You’re cute,” Starla said to Grant.

Ifor’s eyes drifted to Grant’s crotch.

“Yeah,” Grant said.

“So, you’re…you’re…” Starla asked as her hand reached for Grant’s penis.

“Circumcised,” Grant said, “Not by choice. Go ahead.” Grant’s eyes moved toward her chest with their modest breasts.

Jaimie, meanwhile, opened the front passenger door, crawled across into the driver’s seat, while Ivonne sat and closed it. Ifor caught Starla’s finger as she traced the edge of Grant’s glans; Grant’s flesh stiffened.

“Where to?” Jaimie asked. Ifor turned his attention forward.

“Getting here was awful,” Grant said.

Ifor knew Grant’s hard erection made them both feel better.

“I think Fremont is our best bet,” Ifor said, “Bit warm in here?”

Jaimie put the gears into reverse, backed the car out of the spot, did the tight turn, put the gear into first, and went down the ramp.

“You can only go left out of here,” Ifor said, “Right at the light.”

Ivonne turned around in the seat, her plump breasts with large nipples hung beneath the strands of her red hair. Her eyes glanced down at Grant’s and Ifor’s hard dicks.

“You’re not shy at all, are you?” Ivonne asked.

“Right ahead onto I-405 North,” Ifor said to Jaimie.

“So you joined up?” Grant asked Ardley.

“Was about to start college—” Ardley started.

“How old are you?” Ifor asked.

Jaimie turned the wheel, joined the slow moving line of cars on the freeway.

“Fourteen next month,” Ardley said.

“Risley’s sixteen on Monday,” Ifor said.

“Different college?” Grant asked.

“Jaimie visited my fraternity,” Ardley said, “Gave his speech.”

“You heard it and ditched?” Grant asked.

“Yep,” Ardley said, “I mean, what other choice did I have but to wait to the end of the year celebration for the nuns to castrate me?”

“You mean circumcision,” Ifor said.

“No, castration with circumcision,” Ardley said, he waited the two seconds until both Ifor and Grant lost their erections, “More cost effective to have the veterinarian do them both at the same time. See, the nuns of the orphanage think every boy wants to become a priest, so I’ve got no say in the matter.”

Ifor had trouble digesting it, and he thought the threat of being circumcised bad enough, but his balls were off limits to the knife.

“Trust us,” Grant said, “We know how you feel, but that seems…extreme.”

“Even worse,” Ardley said, “I stole into their office a while ago. It turned out that my parents were Atheists, so when they were killed, in a deal with the state of Wyoming, the nuns got custody of me despite relatives protesting the assignment, extended family willing to take me on. I was too young, wasn’t told a thing, but there’s plenty of letters where they kept it up for a while, but stopped—my family gave up on me.”

“Sounds awful,” Ifor said, knowing it’s chaotic when a parent dies, he’s heard the stories from his Dad.

“I know,” Ardley said, “So to me, Jaimie’s idea here sounds far better than snip, snip, snip!”

Car shuddered and began to shake as Jaimie drove up to the lower deck of the steel tied arched bridge; he dropped the gear down, it still shook. After the crest, the engine sputtered and sputtered more, groaned. Jaimie put it into neutral and coasted.

“Aim for the hospital exit—straight,” Ifor instructed.

They coasted and coasted, where they saw the light rail running again, to the other bridges.

“Good wheel bearings,” Ifor remarked, “Don’t brake.”

They reached the end of the ramp and it curved to the right.

“Ignore the stop sign and go straight through the intersection,” Ifor said, “Left into the parking lot.”

Jaimie brought them to a rolling stop next to a tall gas tank. Jaimie set the parking brake, and they got out.

“That’s circumcised?” Starla asked Grant, “Doesn’t seem too bad—missing the skin, obviously.”

“I mean, it still works,” Grant said, “But compared to Ifor here? Takes a bit to set me off—him, he’s jerking off in seconds.”

Ifor went for the front.

“Hood,” Ifor said to Jaimie.

Jaimie reached in, pulled the latch. Ifor who propped the hood open. Jaimie came back, stood to the side of Ifor. Ifor studied the spartan engine, not cramped .

“Carburetor—and a distributor cap?” Ifor said, “It’s an antique like my pickup.”

Ifor pulled on several spark plug wires, examined them closely.

“Been scored,” Ifor said, showing the razor fine gap, “With the age of this engine—likely not made any more. Haven’t you been doing any maintenance on this?”

“No,” Jaimie said, “My Dad can…” a tear from his cheek. “He could’ve fixed this.”

“Think I can salvage this,” Ifor said. He reached into the car, grabbed the Ranch Hands pocket knife laying on the center console between the front seats, and opened it as he came back.

“They—” Jaimie started.

“Know a trick or two,” Ifor said, “Got any tape?”

“Trunk?” Ardley suggested as he went to the back, opened the trunk, and pulled out black electrical tape.

“Life’s so much better naked,” Ifor said, “Nobody bothers you about it?”

“My folks didn’t even spring a diaper onto me,” Jaimie said, “Showed up naked to Kindergarten.”

Grant snorted, laughed.

“They weren’t supposed to,” Jaimie said, “I got away with it, though, for years. So when Joe realized we’d have to jettison weight, seemed the natural thing to do. I get pestered with questions, however, I don’t recommend anybody copying.”

“Too late,” Grant said, “So, how old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Jaimie replied.

“Sixteen,” Ifor said as he pinched the conductors together.

“Sixteen,” Grant said.

Ifor used the black tape, wrapped it together.

“Fourteen,” Ivonne said.

“Fourteen next month,” Ardley said.

“Thirteen,” Starla said.

“And Florida—I mean Wyoming lest you drive?” Ifor asked.

“I never asked them,” Jaimie replied.

“Am I the only licensed driver?” Ifor asked.

“You’re not?” Ardley asked Grant.

“Scheduled to take the test next week,” Grant said, “I do know how to drive.”

“Well,” Ifor said as he closed the hood, “Either it works or you’re getting towed. We’ll see to a proper fix, later.”

They got back into the car. Jaimie turned the ignition and the car came back to life.

“Lets avoid the freeway from here,” Ifor said as Jaimie backed up, “So—I could’ve driven as I do have a license.”

“Nobody’s asked us,” Ardley said, “Besides, the car’s not ours.”

Grant laughed as the thought filled Ifor with dread, worse than suggesting nudity to Cody.

“Nicked it a couple weeks ago,” Jaimie said, “We needed the transportation and plan to return it. Besides, it wasn’t being used.”

“You’re letting me get my DNA all over it?” Ifor asked.

“You really need to mellow out,” Grant said to Ifor.

Ifor felt Grant’s hand slip onto his balls, massaged them, and felt the magic work as the tension went out of him.

“Left here,” Ifor said, “We’re going for the church. How long have you all been naked?”

“Continuously since we came up with the plan,” Ivonne said.

“Boulder, Colorado,” Ardley said, “Two weeks or so.”

“You’ve had this car that long?” Grant said, “Bound to get—”

“No, that’s the brilliant part,” Ardley said, “Get this, people pay for the privilege of having the college lock up their car for the term—students can’t even step into the garage until Thanksgiving. It won’t be missed before we return it.”

“Aren’t you the one becoming a police officer?” Ivonne asked of Ifor, “So, you’ll report us—”

“Dad wants me to,” Ifor said, “Fortunately, I’m not swearing an oath until next month.”

“There it is,” Grant pointed.

Jaimie turned left, pulled in behind the Episcopalian Church of the Redemption. Lights were already on.

“Good, lights means he’s here,” Ifor said as they got out of the car.

“YOU!” came the exclaim, Cody bearing down on them.


	41. Jaimie

“YOU!”

Cody approached them, in the church parking lot, his wrinkled dark blue dress shirt had dark grease stains on it. Clouds were rolling in overhead.

“Our resident critic,” Grant said, “Balances out the group, but he’s harmless.”

“He’s the one who tried to cover our disappearances from camp—tonight’s story,” Ifor said as he led the way down the steps into the warm basement social hall of the church.

Ifor recognized the white shirt and purple shorts he stepped over were Risley’s.

“Can you believe this?” Risley said, his balls loose, “About an hour ago some demolition team showed up, thought they had orders for tearing this place down on a Saturday! Fortunately, got it sorted out.”

“Thought this meeting was canceled by the Vicar,” Cody said; Cody stood out as the only person dressed.

“Why would you think that?” Risley asked Cody, Risley’s muddy blue eyes fixated onto Cody’s amber browns.

“No reason,” Cody said, “When I heard about naked kids downtown—why am I not surprised it involved you lot?”

“These are our guest speakers,” Ifor said.

“Do I need to strip to speak?” Cody asked.

“Let’s hear what they’ve got to say first,” Ifor said.

“Can you get us some chopsticks?” Risley asked as he pointed to the array of Chinese food cartons on the counter, steam pouring out of them.

Ifor recognized the ruse, get Cody out of here.

“Gladly!” Cody snapped as he left.

Ifor walked into the kitchen, opened the drawer, grabbed a leftover pair, and took a nibble on the orange chicken.

“Is he always this cheerful?” Ardley asked.

“He eagerly attended the camp that we skipped,” Risley said, “Our actions got him expelled, and he’s been a bit moody since he returned. He’s been a good friend before, so I think he’ll get over it.”

Ifor spotted Jaimie and Ivonne headed up the stairs at the other end.

“So, you guys walk around naked all the time too?” Ardley asked.

“No,” Grant said, “We’re not supposed to, but it’s fun to get away with it. Besides, if we’re to tell everybody about our adventures, is there a better outfit to do it in?”

“We were naked,” Ifor said.

“I’m liking this Bible Study,” Starla said, her eyes darted between them.

A chime, and Risley picked up his phone from the counter.

“Oh good,” Risley said, “Think we’ll have a feast, so lets get this thing moving.”

Risley walked, moved the low platform out from the wall. Ifor came over, helped setup the large, flat, single step stage. Grant grabbed the sitting mats, placed them around the stage. Ardley and Starla moved several tables out, added chairs to them.

“Hello?” asked Jai as he entered, his wavy blond hair stayed curled around his ears. “Oh, some party.” He removed his jacket, revealed the buttoned shirt above his swim shorts.

“No need to go further unless you want to,” Risley said, “We’ll explain during the meeting.”

“You’ll keep my attention,” Peace said, in her tie–dye T–shirt, her eyes darted between them.

Plastic bags in their hands, Peace and Jai set down bags of chips and soda onto the food table next to the kitchen.

“I’m sure to get behind this discussion,” Ainsley said as she entered, boxes of pizza in her hands, brought them over to the table.

Ainsley came up to Ifor, kissed him on the cheek, brought his hands to her lavender shirt. Ifor’s hard dick pressed against her as he removed the shirt, pulled it up, let her breasts with their nipples show. Her fingers curled around his hard shaft.

“Not yet,” Ifor said, “Later.”

“I even found another sponge,” Ainsley whispered, “Name your day.”

“Need more chicks,” Locke said as he entered, “Is it me or is it hot in here?”

“I agree,” Jai said as he unbuttoned his shirt down to his belly button.

Locke’s green underwear showed as he removed his blue jeans, hung the jeans on the coat rack. Locke sat cross–legged on a mat, blushed as the bulge showed on his underwear, before he removed his gray T–shirt.

“What’s the schedule?” asked Ainsley, now naked with her shaved pubic and vulva showing to Ifor.

“I’m famished,” Ifor said, as he went for the food table. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks, scooped out some Mongolian beef onto a plate.

“Don’t pee on it,” Ainsley said.

“I’ve been trained,” Ifor said, “So, I’ll pee anywhere else.”

“I’ll get a bucket,” Ainsley said as she left.

“So, you two going to make a presentation together?” Grant asked Ifor.

“You’re thinking dirty,” Ifor said.

“And you’ve got a boner,” Grant said, “Nobody’s missed it.”

“Keep watching it,” Ifor said.

Grant laughed.

“Try it up your ass?” Ifor asked.

“Serious?” Grant asked.

“It’d be out of line for the presentation,” Ifor said, “I’m…curious.”

“That’s going to take…persuasion,” Grant said, “Not tonight.”

Grant reached out, gave a quick handshake of Ifor’s hard dick.

“Careful,” Ifor warned as he felt the eagerness within his flesh.

“Blow me,” Grant said.

“Done eating?” Risley said, “Think we’re ready.”

Ifor turned, the crowd two deep. He walked onto the small stage, faced them.

“Can everybody see my dick?” Ifor said, “Please, make sure you can see it and my balls.” He felt his loose balls beneath him, put his fingers behind them, and held them forward for a minute.

“Vanity?” Locke asked.

“Yes,” Ifor said before he tugged at a couple of pubic hairs, “I also need a comb.”

Ainsley, now naked in the front, handed one up. Ifor took it, combed his pubic hair above his hard erection.

“Keep going,” Peace said.

One knot, two knots, Ifor handed the comb with several of his hairs back to Ainsley. He glanced as Cody came back, glared at the presence of other chopsticks.

“Good, get settled in,” Ifor said, “Tonight, we’ve got a double feature. First up, our little adventure that you may have heard of. A lot of trees and animals got a good look at our dicks, which is why you’re seeing them tonight, because we wore nothing in the wilderness.”

Grant came onto the stage, stood to Ifor’s left, while Risley stood to Ifor’s right.

“An interesting thing happens when your survival rides in the hands of your friends and you’re naked,” Ifor said, “You recognize the friendship, the need to stick together, and the companionship. Hangups dissolve. Concerns over skin or dicks or anything else, melts away. What’s left is the brotherly love, pure, unadulterated, friendship. This is our tale.”

Some applause.

“I think Ifor secretly wanted to get naked,” Risley said as he began, talked about the flight in the plane, getting naked, and being shot at.

“We didn’t stick around,” Grant said, “Thought Fairbanks was a good direction to go, so we hiked.”

“Think it was Risley who peed first?” Ifor said, “Bullets coming at us, it didn’t matter, I didn’t want to see my friends killed, so we made for time. Disgusting to see them take that dump, however, blood would be worse.”

Risley, Ifor, and Grant continued to cover with a fast tale to most of the incidents along the way before Dorcia and Maev showed up.

“Sex?” Locke asked, his fingers shrouded his green briefs.

“Peace, can you reach into—?” Risley asked.

Peace reached into Risley’s backpack, pulled out a book, the Penis Handbook.

“Show it around,” Risley said.

Peace raised her eyebrows as she browsed it.

“Gag gift from my brother Blake,” Grant said, “He slipped it into my backpack and I didn’t find it until we were out there. With no other reading material, we read that. Quite informative, so we’ll start a checkout sheet, one day at a time.”

“You can’t read that in a day,” Risley said.

“Some people are slow to rise,” Grant said.

Giggles came around.

“Yes, to your question, Locke,” Ifor said, “It included sex.”

“Are you all gay?” Barbette asked.

“You wouldn’t believe the coincidence,” Grant said, “Day after Ifor sprained his ankle, Risley and I go out for a short hike. I must’ve been out of his sight for two minutes, because when I came back, two girls were there, and Risley already had his dick into one of them. Somehow Risley conjured up a hot chick and seduced her a minute after meeting.”

“I lost my virginity,” Risley stated.

Some snickers and laughter.

“Seventh commandment,” Cody stated.

Grant and Risley and Ifor continued their adventures, including the hounds and the rescue.

“Naked together, that’s totally gay,” Locke said.

“To your earlier question Barbette,” Ifor said, his fingers teased his dick, kept it stiff, “We shared a sleeping bag, so no privacy, no walls as we explored ourselves. Our brotherly love grew, and I’m now alright with showing this—” he jiggled his hard cock “—around. I’m okay with shooting my load…I prefer the audience. I’m okay with them playing with it and me getting off on it. Risley was the most reluctant, however, I’d advise you to avoid his seat from our return flight.”

Some laughter, a crack of thunder outside.

“Me, I learned myself on the hike, that nagging feeling I’ve had,” Ifor said, “I couldn’t hide it, in that I like both, a good pussy or a good pair of balls can get me going.”

“That’s gay,” Cody stated, “And immoral.”

“For a religion that boasts about privacy, it sure likes to claw into the bedroom,” Ifor said, “And Grant, here, lets me indulge on him. I’ll demonstrate.”

“Let me know when it’s over,” Cody stated as he walked into the kitchen, sat down behind the counter.

Ifor turned sideways as he got to his knees, Grant stepped forward. Ifor’s cock twitched in anticipation.

“Once the girls left, only way to get relief,” Grant said.

Ifor lifted Grant’s soft circumcised dick, twisted slightly to show its slit to the audience, as he moved his head in. Ifor’s tongue licked at Grant’s loose scrotum, with a bit of the sweat on it, and caressed each testicle.

“Not what I was expecting,” Locke said.

“I’m fine with it,” Peace said.

Ifor lifted Grant’s balls, moved his head to lick the base of the scrotum, before his tongue moved back. Ifor’s hands gripped Grant’s fleshy buttocks, held tight, while Ifor’s tongue licked along the ridge of Grant’s stiffening cock. Grant sighed.

“Enjoying it?” Jai asked.

“It’s not gay, not really,” Risley said, “What you see is a friend giving another friend a bit of joy, a gift.”

“We learned to arouse each other,” Grant said, “It calms him to suck on it. If pressed for time, playing with his balls work. Jai, you’re welcome to try.”

Snickers came as Jai shook his head. Ifor’s tongue moved to the pink head of Grant’s hard circumcised dick, felt the fulcrum beneath the slit.

“And you learn how to make it last, or not,” Grant said as Ifor’s tongue curled around the end of the shaft, “Ifor likes to take his time … though …“

Ifor opened his mouth as his tongue drew it in, glans on the end of Grant’s hard erection entered first.

“Totally gay,” Barbette said.

“No risk of pregnancy,” Risley said.

A bit of laughter. Ifor, meanwhile, pressed his fingers up Grant’s anus, massaged as his tongue coaxed around the edge of the glans. A tremble, Grant stumbled, and Ifor pulled back.

“Ah…” Grant managed as his pulsed rapidly, the off–white of the orgasm shot against Ifor’s nose, however, Ifor leaned back in, lapped the drooling semen away from Grant’s slit.

“You ain’t studying, you’re burning the bible,” Cody bellowed.

“Grant enjoyed it,” Peace said.

Ifor caught the grin on Grant’s face.

“A good orgasm does that,” Locke said, “Wouldn’t know anything.”

“Yes, it did get sexual,” Ifor said as he stood back up, his hard erection with a retracted foreskin was firm as it jutted out toward them, “We experimented and found this gave us happiness, removed the stress that would’ve destroyed us. And sharing our sexuality became another reward, seeing Risley experience bliss gave me another insight into my friend—I know him an Grant well because of this, and I won’t trade that experience for anything.”

“Score?” Jai asked.

“Not about score,” Risley said, “Moment you think that is the moment you’ve lost the game. Put the friendship first, be willing to demonstrate that friendship, do that and you won’t worry about the score.”

“Let’s put this to the test,” Ainsley said as she went to the stage.

Snickers as she knelt in front of Ifor. She tickled his balls.

“Being open means no secrets,” Grant said, “You do keep a bit of a tally, enough to know if a friend’s being shafted or not, make sure they’re getting satisfaction.”

“Gay,” Barbette said.

“That’s not,” Peace said.

Ifor felt the licking, the sucking; heard the rain pound onto the basement windows.

“Here,” Grant said as he reached into Ifor’s anus, “Make it better for him.”

Snickers. However, Ifor stumbled as he felt the tremble. Ainsley pulled back, showed his hard erection to the crowd as the first quench came through. Surge after surge, thick strands flew out of Ifor’s slit, and he balanced himself with her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Ifor said to Ainsley as she sat back down near Locke.

“New opening ceremony?” Locke asked, “Can we try me?”

Laughter came around as Ifor regained his footing. His penis still dribbling, he spoke.

“Now, for our guest of honor,” Ifor said, “Jaimie Konnor Scott, from Dolbourne, Florida.”

Ifor moved, sat cross–legged between Ainsley on his left and Locke on his right.

“Now I know why you’ve been so damn happy,” Locke said.

“I got head, you?” Ifor replied.

“It’s a meeting with naked boys—of course we’re paying attention,” Peace said to Locke.

Fourteen year old Jaimie, with his dark pubic hair that nestled a bit along his long dick, the balls behind it, his blue eyes beneath his brown hair, stood in front of them.

“This is going to be a rough crowd,” Jaimie said, “A quick twirl—” Jaimie spun around “—and you’d get a good look. Normally it steals the show, but I have a tough act to follow.”

Jaimie walked off the platform, grabbed a chair from the wall, put it on the stage, backward, and leaned against it. He spread his legs a bit.

“Please move if you can’t see my dicks or my balls,” Jaimie said as he pointed to them with the edges of his hands, the retracted foreskin on a partially engorged penis and the two loose testicles beneath. Pubic hair surrounded it.

“I expect to have to bare these for the rest of my life,” Jaimie said, “Hasn’t been a month since I realized the truth of my plan. You don’t know me, you see a naked boy standing before you, some getting a closer look than others—” He pointed toward the kitchen, where Cody was standing up.

“Bible studies are not about sex,” Cody remarked.

“We’re the most vulnerable when naked—your three friends found strength in that,” Jaimie said, “I’m showing you my vulnerability, my balls, because I want you to get the measure of me. So, my plans besides earning the lust of ladies and disgust of others? The why of it is more important, for the destination is meaningless without the purpose. This group is disgusted with religion, am I correct?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Cody said.

“How would you put it?” Ifor said as he stood, his eyes focused on Cody, “Forced Bible Camps? Forced circumcisions—or castrations?” Ifor pointed at Ardley. “It’s getting shoved down our throats, for what? Some jerk in the sky?”

“Exactly,” Jaimie said, “We’re in a world that abhors the faithless, the unbeliever, the atheist — to them, you are the threat as you’re able to speak freely and see them for the demons they truly are!”

“Religion isn’t demons,” Cody said.

“What’s the devil?” Jaimie said, “To believe, if you believe, that ought be your choice, not some mandate of law. To the believers, you’re either to be converted or worm food. I’ve seen people burned at the stake for supposedly skipping church when nobody bothered to check the next town over! I was six when that torch was shoved into my hand. I didn’t understand it, the mob mentality until it was too late. It’s the same mentality that’s willing to murder and hope God sorts out the mistakes. I’ve had friends die because their folks insisted on praying instead of helping — or even worse, denying those with the ability to help, despite the sick begging for intervention, for their lives.

“This nation, this country, used to value the freedom to think. Since then, the Christian faith not only destroyed the separation of church and state, it now forces you to sign up. Oh, they’ll claim you have a choice so long as it’s the RIGHT choice — better make it quick or you’re dead before you’re twenty. And if you dare to strip that cross off the outside of your house, don’t.

“Ever heard of the Department of Homeland Morality? It was _required_ under the terms of the Kremlin armistice. I’m wagering they already know about my visit to the bookstore today – heck, they likely know about this very meeting, that it’s happening.”

“Can’t, nobody in this room would tell,” Ifor said, “Of that, I’m confident.”

“Are you sure?” Jaimie asked Ifor.

“He’s sure,” Cody replied.

“Hope you’re right,” Jaimie said, “If you value your freedom—a freedom to speak, to believe, to express yourself as you feel fit, you will want to come with me. If you don’t wish to flunk your classes because your teachers deem you to not be Christian enough, come with me.” Jaimie glanced at Peace for a moment. “If you don’t want to live in fear that your friend is a snitch, come with me.”

“And if you want to live naked, go with him,” Jai said.

Laughter.

“Care to fill in the details of my plan?” Jaimie asked.

“Live naked on an Ark in space, right?” Jai said.

“Close but not quite,” Jaimie said, “Plan is simple. I’ve secured five flights on an Atlas rocket. So, in June, we start setting up a moon colony so we can thrive. We have the design, talent, and willpower to pull this off. I’m going along with as many others as I can fit—and the lot of you would do nicely. Catch is, as survival is top priority, clothing is neither required nor wanted.

“I’m naked, here, to show that we’re all equal partners in this venture, that we can do this naked. As Ifor and his friends showed, clothes do not make who you are, your skin’s all you need to thrive. Ardley and Starla here have signed on, as dedicated as I am. That I’m here means I believe it’s good for you too.”

Jaimie signed and breathed. His dick ratcheted upward as it stiffened.

“Do as many before have done when persecuted,” Jaimie said, “Pilgrims, Puritans, Quakers, Amish—all fled for their lives and subsequently flourished in this country. So can we, but our situation even more challenging as we’ve got to carry air, water, and our food for life, which is why every spare ounce must either carry human or supplies for survival. First challenge is survival, before we can thrive, butt naked! Please consider it and sign up.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Cody said, “To assault the heavens—it’s—” His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it “—pressing—be back in a bit.”

Cody left.

“He’s not coming I take it,” Jaimie said.

“Likely not,” Ifor said as he stood back up on the stage, aware he was a good few inches taller than Jaimie.

“Sounds like a suicide mission,” Jai said.

“Suicide Mission?” Jaimie said, “Then the Puritans went on a suicide mission, those traveling the Oregon Trail, your ancestors, embarked upon a suicide mission—nearly every immigrant to the New World was a suicide mission. True, ships went back, so did some wagons, but most only went one way. So, if you can call those, suicide missions, then yes, it is. However, like them, I intend to thrive, not die before my time.”

“It’s already getting late,” Ifor said, “Jaimie will be around—”

“One more thing,” Jaimie said, “Though I’m naked before you, don’t copy my example in the streets, in the roads, unless you first join us in Florida. I won’t go into specifics, only it’s unsafe for you to do otherwise.”

“As always, no minutes, no summary will be sent out,” Ifor said, “When you have a desire for another bible study, don’t hesitate to drop me a line or two. If you wish to salute my dick—feel free. Or, stick around and we can answer a few more questions.”

Ardley motioned; Ifor, Grant, and Risley went into the kitchen.

“I’m impressed, actually,” Ardley said, “It wasn’t until Jaimie talked me into it that I even dared.”

“It’s not like we’re strolling the city streets,” Risley said.

“For the most part,” Ifor said.

“You went driving like that,” Grant said.

“Jaimie knows more than he’s letting on, but I trust him,” Ardley said, “Are you game? To join him?”

“Not sure…” Risley said.

“Sounds neat,” Grant said, “But I’m not sure it’s right.”

“Nonsense,” Ardley said, “You stood up there naked, most comfortable I’ve seen apart from Jaimie, taking a blow from him—” he pointed at Ifor. “I heard how you managed against hounds and bears. You’re not being assholes, despite showing yours off. That you could plan a trek, handle the adversity, and were getting yourself out of the mess. It impressed Jaimie, so I know you’d fit in.”

“I have to think on it,” Ifor said as he recognized the distress brewing in Grant, “That’s as far as I can promise.”

“Think on it, but don’t take too long,” Ardley said, “Jaimie is intent on meeting the deadline, and I plan to join him.”

“He’s guaranteeing—?” Risley asked.

“Nothing except you’ll have to work for it,” Ardley said, “I confess, risky as hell, but you’d escape this, having to pretend to be a bible study, pretending to fit in—no pretense.”

“I’m comfortable here,” Ifor said as he admitted it to himself, “I’ll be joining the police in the fall.”

“Um…” Ardley said as he glanced down at Ifor’s crotch with his pubic hair, his dick, and free dangling balls, “You’re certain about that?”

“Yeah,” Ifor said.

“Are you trying to hide all of the tangible assets?” Peace asked as she pushed in between Grant and Ifor, her breasts pushed across their arms.

Grant blushed, his circumcised penis rose until it was stiff.

“You’re in?” Peace asked.

“They should be,” Ardley said, “Are you?”

“Unsure,” Peace said.

“You’re here, you’ll all fit in,” Ardley said, “You’d be able to paint—”

“Sculpt,” Ifor corrected.

“Sculpt without limitation,” Ardley said.

“Bringing stuff along for that?” Peace asked.

“Your mind,” Ardley said as he pointed to his temples, “Moon’s got stuff—we’re going to have to build out of it. So, you’ve got some time to figure out how to sculpt up there.”

“Hey,” Jai said, coming over, “We’re pushing curfew as it is—Jaimie promises to continue, tomorrow—I’d like to hear it out a bit more.”

“I’ve already had two citations this year and Dad wants me sleeping at home tonight,” Grant said, “See ya tomorrow.”

Grant pressed his fist against Risley’s, made for the back door, one of a number of people leaving the basement. Peace left with Jai.

“Help you clean up,” Ardley said.

Risley and Ifor straightened out the furniture. Jaimie grabbed the sweeper, ran it across the tile.

“Normally we don’t bother—” Ifor started.

“Leave it cleaner than you found it,” Jaimie said.

“You’re sounding like a Wild Trekker,” Ifor said, “but I know better.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Ardley said, “The nuns—it was an orphanage, and broke.”

“You missed out, the both of you,” Ifor said.

Risley glanced toward the clock.

“Damn,” Risley said, “Curfew.”

“We’ll squeeze a bit,” Jaimie said, “Bit bigger than your friend.”

“Grant,” Ifor said.

Risley stuffed his clothes into his backpack. Ifor was last, activated the alarm code, and heard the door latch as he left the basement, into the light rain of the night. Joined up as Jaimie opened the car door.

“Should be locking it,” Ifor said.

“Where’d he put the key?” Ardley asked.

Jaimie got in the front. Risley and Ifor squeezed into the seat behind him.

“Ouch,” Risley said as he crouched upward.

“Where to?” Jaimie asked, windshield wipers moving.

“Can’t see,” Risley said as he leaned forward between the two seats. His right foot in front of Ardley, Starla directly behind him. “Out, then right.”

Wheels screeched for a moment to bring the car into motion. Starla puckered her lips, blew on the pink anus in front of her, she aimed her lips down to the dangling wads lof flesh, giggled as Risley’s penis stiffened.

“What would the nuns—?” Ardley started.

“Give them the shaft,” Starla said as her right hand reached to grip Risley’s hard cock.

“I’m trying to give directions,” Risley stated.

Ifor laughed, watched as Starla’s left fingers tickled Risley’s testicles hanging loose.

“Right,” Risley said as he pointed to the steering wheel, “Before the light.”

Above, in the night air, helicopters hovered below the clouds. Coming up fast from behind, police lights flashed; the cars passed them by, but not before Ifor watched the red and blue light up Risley’s butt.

“They don’t seem to care,” Ivonne said.

“His ass is the least of the charges,” Ardley said while giving Risley’s butt a quick pat.

Ifor recognized the twitch in his friend’s erection, the rapid contractions of the pulsing ridge, as the hard cock laid down a trail of off–white puddles across the center console. Risley’s cock squirted between Starla’s massaging fingers. More flashing lights, red and white, lit them up as an ambulance passed.

“Shot somebody for kissing in public?” Risley asked.

“They wouldn’t—” Starla started.

“Happened before,” Ifor replied.

Risley settled back, sat between Starla’s legs, slumped over and started snoring.

“Where next?” Jaimie asked.

“His place as his parent’s aren’t home,” Ifor said as he crouched upward, “Don’t play with me until we get there. Left Jaimie.”

Jaimie turned left. They made it to Strawberry Street, where Jaimie pulled into the driveway and parked behind the house.

“Need help carrying him,” Ifor whispered.

Ifor and Ardley took Risley, carried him across the wet grass to the kitchen back door. They brought Risley upstairs, laid him on the bed.

“We try not to sleep together,” Starla said, “We’re—”

“Use Marcia’s—bedroom there!” Ifor pointed to the end of the hall. “Don’t disturb it too much. Know Risley’s sleeping bag is here.”

“Not yet tired,” Jaimie said.

“See me take a leak?” Ifor asked as he went for the upstairs bathroom.

Jaimie followed.

Ifor took one side of the toilet, Jaimie stood on the other side. Dicks aimed, they peed, two jets poured in.

“Think you’ll fit in,” Jaimie said, “First thing we did was remodel the bathrooms to allow for a bunch of people—we skipped dividers due to cost and the need for more toilets. That you can take a piss is good.”

Ifor laughed a bit.

“Well, if you can’t piss, then it becomes a medical issue, and you’d eventually die,” Jaimie said, “Want my friends to be living.”

Jaimie and Ifor went down the stairs, to the sofa in the living room.

“Comfy,” Jaimie said as he sat, turned toward Ifor, left leg folded with the foot beneath the right knee, right foot on the floor.

“His old man—watches war documentaries like all the fucking time,” Ifor said, taking the opposite cushion, right foot beneath the left, faced Jaimie.

Ifor spent a couple of moments studying Jaimie’s partially engorged flesh, his own erection came fast, stiff between his legs.

“I don’t mind if my dick sells you on my plan,” Jaimie said.

“Mind?” Ifor asked as he reached.

“Or my balls,” Jaimie said.

Ifor felt the two lumps, held them.

“It’s the confidence,” Ifor said, “Your plan sounds ill–prepared—”

“Fix that,” Jaimie said, “Join us.”

“Risky,” Ifor said.

“Nothing in life is risk–free,” Jaimie said, “This has risk, but you tackled bears, I think you can stomach some risk, right?”

“Suppose,” Ifor said, “It’s comfortable here.”

“It was for me too,” Jaimie said, “Until they killed my father.”

“They—?” Ifor asked.

“Right before I left,” Jaimie said, “We’re all going to be leaving people behind, that’s the nature of migration.”

“My Dad,” Ifor said, “I didn’t tell you his side when he thought I was missing and dead.”

“Tell him and leave a note, I’m not asking for you to vanish,” Jaimie said, “I’m asking you to take that leap of faith, become a friend to the group and to trust us, like I’m trusting my balls to you right now.”

Ifor’s left hand replaced his right on holding Jaimie’s balls; his right stroked along the nearly stiff shaft, felt the erection harden out between the fingers. Ifor massaged, felt the pulsation, as Jaimie’s dick squirted out the fast volley, ejaculated onto the sofa cushion.

“And my trust in you was rewarded,” Jaimie said, “Does it help you make your mind?”

“How long have you been naked?” Ifor asked, letting his curiosity change the topic.

“Never liked getting dressed,” Jaimie said, “Rarely wore shorts or underwear to school—pissed off the teachers, but not sure why I’ve been allowed to get away with it. Suppose they’ve been more concerned with indoctrinating me to let it slide. Became compulsory late last month—won’t bore you with that. Think I’ve inspired Shelby for years.”

“Court order?” Ifor asked.

“Shelby’s kept quiet on how he managed that—likely afraid to pop that bubble,” Jaimie said, “It’s even ticked off Mr. Campbell—that’s Joe’s Dad, the first in line to organize a lynching, but I think he’s been restrained. For Shelby, it started long before that court order—not all the time, mind you. No, think it was Halloween a few years ago, before he had hair on his balls. Seemed totally embarrassed, but Gretel talked him into going as Cupid—full Greek, we’re talking wings, bow, and nothing else. His dick on show and tell to the entire school, won the prize and even had the spotlight. In the end, Shelby understood why I’d let it dangle, and seemed to get the school’s blessing to do it every so often, like on spirit days.”

“He wasn’t killed over it?” Ifor asked.

“First Halloween—think it was right after Dougal died,” Jaimie said, “Mr. Campbell got a rather stern warning, was a bit mellow for awhile. Everybody else enjoyed it that Shelby and I would show up to school stark naked—tough to hide puberty like that.”

“Can only imagine,” Ifor said, “Suppose not. Once you shed clothes, you’re in better shape, religious or not.”

“Clothes are a crutch—we both know that,” Jaimie said, “We are human. We have minds, souls, and bodies. Religion tries to control all of it, and shame the body. We try to embrace it all, and not use clothes to hide it.”

“I know Risley and Grant better because of it,” Ifor said, “It’s made our friendship strong, maybe Cody resents it?”

“The zealot?” Jaimie asked.

“Yeah, him,” Ifor said, “Eats the Bible up and he’ll provide quotes for any occasion whether you want them or not. Still, we keep Cody around—he’s harmless.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Cody felt his phone vibrate its curfew warning in his damp pocket as he kicked the can into the puddle, still a few minutes away on Old York Avenue. Cody got to his house, where a man was in the driveway, under the eave of the house.

“Are you always this tardy Mr. Vankleeck?” Baris asked, “I summoned you over an hour ago.”

Cody glanced over the man, in his trench coat repelling the rain, the sunglasses despite it being a wet night, and holding a sheet of paper.

“Your seminary application,” Baris said as he brought a lighter up and flicked the top, flame came out and began to lick the paper, “Cody Austin Vankleeck, I regret to inform you that it has been rejected, all of them.”

Baris dropped the burning paper as he left. Cody stood, watched the application burn on the wet pavement, his name erased as the paper blackened. Rage consumed him—he had tried his best, he had a kid coming that was counting on this—he’d failed.

Cody’s phone buzzed with its shout.

“Emergency Ministry Services!”

Cody glanced at the location, the light trail station. Cody ran the two blocks, saw the youthful boy headed for it. Bare buttocks, the wet teenage boy put his hands where his pocket should have been, on the fleshy skin. Cody recognized him, the unmistakable side profile, a boy unconcerned with the circumcised soft penis unabashedly peeing onto the bottom of the ticket vending machine; the drone of the freeway beyond the tracks.

“GRANT!” Cody bellowed out of his lungs at the boy who’d cost Cody his future.

Grant turned in the rain, the pissing continued, a bit lighter in volume; rumbling in the background.

“Oh, it’s you,” Grant said, “Bit of a tight spot, mind if I bummed a ticket?”

“How dare you!” Cody said, his rage focused at the one who cost him dearly.

“What’s gotten into you?” Grant asked.

“I can see you for what you are, clearly, right now,” Cody said, “For the monster that—”

“I’m sorry,” Grant said, extending his hand for a shake, “For whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry. Now, I can hear it—can I borrow—?”

Cody’s right grabbed Grant’s right hand, while the left grabbed at the shoulder. Cody pushed Grant backward.

“You deserve—” Cody started as Grant slid and stumbled, fell backward off the wet platform onto the glistening track, below the light of the approaching train. A train that did not stop, it did not slow in time as Grant’s thin frame slipped underneath. Steel wheels did not stop as it moved past, a crunching sound could be heard.

A moment later, Cody witnessed the carnage and ran away. He ran around the large building of the Acts 1:8 Church, went to the small house behind it, and knocked on the door.

Knock! Knock!

A few minutes later, dressed in blue pajamas, Minister Robin Yule opened the door.

“Yes?” the Minister asked.

“Forgive me for I have sinned,” Cody said.

“Come on in,” the Minister said.

Cody entered.


	42. Dodge

“Have you any leads?” Captain Alexis Sefton asked Donald.

Donald stood in front of the police tape at the light rail station; a few cars passed on the freeway behind him

“Fortunately, the surveillance cameras appear to be operational,” Donald said, “It’ll take them another hour to get the footage. To save him from Alaska for this—I think I need counseling myself.”

“I’ll see to it,” Alexis said as she gave Donald a firm grip on the shoulder, “I’ll see to it.”

“Captain Sefton!”

“What are they—?” Donald said as another police captain, Otis Kex, approached.

Alexis caught the sight of the familiar man in a trench coat.

“Oh no…” Alexis muttered as she walked over.

“Hello,” Baris said, “Due to your familiarity, we need to avoid a conflict of interest, Captain Kex and his team have been assigned this investigation.”

“My orders come from—” Alexis started.

“I have already spoken with Commissioner Clewer on this matter,” Baris said, “He agreed with the assessment.”

“Why isn’t he here?” Alexis asked.

“I was already up when I got the news,” Baris said, “And I called him—he asked me to tell you.”

* * *

Sunday, August 23rd

Risley’s phone rang several times—he rolled over, pulled the battery, and it cut out. Ifor’s buzzed and he tapped the screen, it went silent. Jaimie, though, stood up with a nearly erect penis, foreskin retracted.

“We shut 'em up,” Risley said.

“Sorry, it—well, I’m awake now,” Jaimie said.

“My apologies,” Risley stated.

“We’re not going to get any sleep—” Ifor said, “It’s…” he glanced at his phone “…like two.”

“Think the car damage was deliberate?” Jaimie asked.

“Could—likely,” Ifor said, “Given the bridges—didn’t seem important.”

“I need to think,” Jaimie said, “Mind if I use the shower? Naked skin’s got to look good.”

“Go ahead,” Risley said.

Risley rolled over, glanced at Ardley snoring, when Ifor’s phone buzzed again. Risley rolled over, typed in Ifor’s PIN, and noticed the twenty unread messages by the pine tree icon. Risley went for the bathroom. Ifor was already leaning against the wall, hand stroking the hard erection, while staring at Jaimie.

“I’m straight,” Jaimie said, “But I’ll sell out my body if that’s what it takes to get you to come.”

“You’ve got a shit ton of messages,” Risley said.

“Mornings are peaceful without them,” Ifor said.

Risley aimed the phone at Ifor’s hard cock for a moment, before he read off the first message.

“Ainsley says it’s urgent,” Risley said as he swiped to the next one. “Peace seconds that.”

“Alright, if it makes you feel better,” Ifor said, “In a moment.”

Ifor gazed at Jaimie, stumbled as the off–white missed the toilet, dribbled on the fake tile. Ifor grabbed the phone, dialed it, brought it to his ear as he walked in the short hallway, his dick dribbled onto the carpet.

“And you can tell them to return their iguanas to the zoo!” Risley shouted after Ifor.

“Iguanas?” Jaimie asked.

“Doesn’t his butt look good?” Risley asked.

“Wasn’t my concern,” Jaimie said, “Still, good.”

“Yes, it’s me,” Ifor said, “Sure, Risley’s here. … You’re joking. … shit, you’re serious? … sure? … yeah.”

Ifor drop kicked the phone as he started to hyperventilate; the phone flew out the open window above the top of the stairs.

“FUCK!” Ifor shouted, “I—sorry, about to lose it.”

Risley began to massage Ifor’s shoulders, but Ifor slid down the wall to sit on the floor, legs up, as tears welled into the eyes focused on the carpet.

“Accident at the light rail station—Grant’s dead,” Ifor said.

“You’re—” Risley started.

“No, it’s for real,” Ifor said, fighting back tears, “And I don’t know what the fuck happened—she didn’t elaborate.” Ifor cried.

“We need to go,” Jaimie said as he came out of the bathroom, bit of soap still in his hair he was rubbing out with a towel, “Now.”

“What?” Risley said, “It’s still—”

“Your friend is dead—suspicious circumstances?” Jaimie asked.

“She didn’t say,” Ifor said.

“Police will want to question you,” Jaimie said as he entered Risley’s bedroom, “Look, I’m sorry, very sorry to hear about this—I wish he’d come, but I can’t stay, it’s too dangerous for me to stick around. His Dad’s a cop, you know the drill, they question everybody when there’s a death.”

Jaimie shook Ardley.

“Get him up, he can sleep in the car,” Jaimie said as he moved back out, entered Marcia’s bedroom.

Risley shook Ardley again, he roused.

“What?” Ardley asked.

“I don’t understand,” Ivonne, with her red hair around her breasts, said as she came out into the corridor, Starla behind her.

“Bit premature,” Ifor said.

“Never premature—only way to survive,” Jaimie said, “That goes for you too; I doubt you’d like to stay behind, but that’s your decision. If you change your minds, head to Florida as soon as possible, contact them if you need help.”

Risley followed Jaimie down the stairs, though Jaimie stopped in the kitchen.

“Um, have any old towels?” Jaimie asked, “Something you can discard?”

“Yeah,” Risley said as he ran to the living room, “Mom wanted me to deliver this to the church rummage sale—last week.” He handed Jaimie a plastic shopping bag full of used towels; the others on the floor were other garments.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not trust in cops. Um, thank you for your hospitality,” Jaimie said, heading for the back door, “Any questions, don’t hesitate to ask—good bye!”

Ifor joined Risley in watching Jaimie climb into the driver’s seat, start the engine; Ardley, Ivonne, and Starla used the other doors. Jaimie backed it out of the driveway.

“That was—and you—damn, sorry, I’m not…” Risley planted his head into Ifor’s shoulder, tears ran down for a moment.

They went back up the stairs. Risley climbed into the tub, turned the water to cold, and sprayed it against his genitals, felt the scrotum retract, fast.

“Did she give any details?” Risley asked.

“Does it matter?” Ifor said as he started to comb his pubic hair in front of the mirror, before flinging the plastic to the side. “I hate this day already.”

Ifor tapped on the tablet, hit the news, pressed the video.

“Police have tentatively identified the teenage victim as the leader of the AntiChristCrusaders, responsible for numerous acts of sabotage that endangered thousands of lives. His name is being withheld pending notification of his family.”

Ifor shut it off. Ifor stepped over the edge of the bathtub, into it. Risley felt the water warm as Ifor moved the dial, slid back against Risley’s chest, between Risley’s legs. Risley reached around Ifor, massaged Ifor’s balls while he kissed Ifor’s neck. Risley did not want to let go of his friend, both of them in shock.

* * *

Alexis wiped a tear off her face as the middle aged red haired Oswald came to her screen, father to Ivonne. Behind him, a program schedule chart obscured by a linen sheet.

“What’s wrong?” Oswald asked.

“Lost one,” Alexis said.

“That happens—you identify—sometimes they—” Oswald said.

“No, I lost one,” Alexis said, “Grant Jasper Barnet was killed several hours ago.”

“Sorry, not familiar with him,” Oswald said.

“Third on the list,” Alexis said, “A week or two ago, Ifor gave him access to the little online group.”

“Not so little anymore,” Oswald said, “Where’s Ifor now?”

“It’s a murder investigation,” Alexis said, “Obvious.”

“Been using their anatomy to authenticate, makes them vulnerable,” Oswald said, “How far are they going?”

“I don’t think the chat will be the focus,” Alexis said, “But they’re interested in the workings of their bible study—it’s what they called it.”

“Not original but usually does the trick,” Oswald said, “Hate to remind ourselves—this is why we insulate everybody. Last time I spoke with Jaimie in person, he didn’t seem overly concerned about the department finding out about his little project.”

“The arks?” Alexis asked.

“He’s not calling them that, but it’s apt,” Oswald said.

“Oh, saw Ivonne—I had to keep my distance,” the Captain said, “Spitting image of her mother, Jaimie’s lucky to have her.”

“Daisy babysat Jaimie before she…I see her influence on him,” Oswald replied, “Both are leaving together, my condition on helping out their legal affairs.”

“Part of me is sorry to see them leave,” Alexis said, “In Daisy’s memory, I’ll keep you apprised.”

“Thank you Alexis,” Oswald said, “You honor her friendship in you.”

The screen went blank. Alexis’ thoughts turned to Ifor and Risley, the inquisition that they were about to endure, one she couldn’t warn them against.

* * *

Ifor felt those hands on his balls; they had only been on them for several minutes, still worked wonders for Ifor, induced an erection that Ifor bore no shame for. Risley’s touch, Risley’s chest on Ifor’s back in the bathtub, a reminder of one friend still there, one friend caring as they grieved to the news. Speech wasn’t needed, Ifor knew Risley was also in shock.

A crash downstairs.

Ifor stood up first, grabbed a yellow towel, dried himself fast; Risley used a blue one. Ifor walked out of the bathroom while using the towel to dry his ears.

“Ifor Lovell Ulverston! Risley Edgar Gillespie!”

Ifor dropped his towel to his waist, nerves of old made him try to cinch it, as he recognized the two large Portland police officers, in their black uniforms, in the small upstairs hall, both with their eyes on Ifor. Same officers that had spewed insults when he visited the police ten days earlier.

“Excuse me Baines?” Ifor asked.

Risley came out into the hall, blue towel over his shoulder.

“He needed a bar of soap,” Risley stated as he brought his blue towel to wrap.

“We need you to come, now,” Baines said, “We have questions.”

“Need to get dressed—” Ifor started, his nerves returning about being naked.

“Now,” said the other officer, “No delays.”

Ifor felt the hands grab his arms, a firm grip of the heavyset man, Baines pushed Ifor to move. Hicklin grabbed Risley by the arms, pushed to move down the stairs. Left, into the living room with its sofa, only hours earlier had Ifor jerked Jaimie off on it.

“Procedure,” Baines said as he yanked the towel away from Ifor, Ifor’s hard erection exposed. Hicklin yanked Risley’s from him.

Ifor knew he should’ve anticipated this as he was pushed to the open front door, the show. Outside, portable flood lights blasted away the night. Reporters and cameras focused on the door, at him. Several officers canvased the neighbors, drew the reluctant ones out of their homes to watch the perp–walk.

Ifor felt shame he hadn’t felt in ages. Not his hand in daring, it was the police officers, ones he had respected months before, the ones that compelled him to go outside. Eyes were upon him and his foreskin wrapped hard boner, one that was going onto the morning news.

“Oh, the billion dollar faggots,” Dom Chandler said, “How does it feel—?”

“Police business,” said a third male officer, one who donned sterile blue nitrile gloves, which Ifor recognized to be Lucas Rummel.

Ifor was held in the middle of the lawn, near Risley, both with their hard cocks jutting forward. Ifor realized the intent, to justify the charges about be leveled at them as a fourth officer donned a pair of gloves.

“Spread em,” Baines said, “We’re searching.”

Ifor felt the boot encouraging him to spread his legs, his warm balls hung loose and low in front of the cameras capturing his measurements. Ifor didn’t recognize this fourth man, the officer had tape over his name on his badge, as the fingers pulled on Ifor’s foreskin, forced it to retract.

“Nothing there,” the man said, before he went behind Ifor.

The man went behind Ifor, where a quick pat down of the back, before fingers pushed between the buttocks. Fingers into the anus, massaged around. Ifor understood what they were after, unable to stop it. He glanced at Risley, experiencing the same with Rummel, hard cock aimed forward with fingers up the butt.

“They’re not hiding much,” Hicklin said.

Ifor knew the search was not the point. Cameras were there, different angles, aimed at their hard dicks, as Risley’s went first. A pulsing of the shaft, the first volley of off–white flew out of Risley’s dick, the flow of liquid turned to dribbling and oozing. Attention turned to Ifor, and his dick complied as he felt the quench, the surge, as he ejaculated, the jump of white, similar to Risley’s, before it dribbled.

“Downtown,” Baines said to Ifor, “We’ve got questions.”

Risley was pushed first toward the microphone.

“What does it feel like?” Chandler asked.

“Ask the child molester,” Risley said.

Handcuffs went onto Ifor’s and Risley’s wrists behind their backs. They were escorted to different patrol cars. Ifor was put into the back of one, and Baines got into the driver’s seat. Ifor, aware his softening dick smeared the leather, focused on Baines despite the bladder starting to protest behind his fluffy brown pubic hair.

“Sorry kid,” Baines said as he drove, “Your Dad’s being informed—that’s as much leeway as I can give. My advice, be honest, but wait until we get downtown to ask or answer questions.”

Ifor realized that was downright charitable for Baines, but still knew he was definitely in trouble. Jaimie’s ark now seemed attractive.

“Think you’ve got it bad?” Baines said, “I’m in a car with a damn faggot!”

Ifor glanced at the shimmer of night lights reflecting on the Willamette River as they went over the Morrison Bridge, turned left, and entered the parking garage; reporters and cameras were already there. Ifor recognized the inmate entrance as they stopped. Baines got out, opened the door.

“You know the procedure,” Baines said.

Ifor stepped out, hands still behind his back, as Baines gripped the wrists. Ifor paused as his dick unleashed, he peed and the cameras recorded the trail of yellow pouring out of his soft flesh.

“Disgusting,” Baines said.

“I’ve ridden in enough urine–soaked patrol cars,” Ifor said, “Did you a favor.”

Ifor shook his butt, not sure if the last drop came out, however, Baines pushed on Ifor to continue.

“Billion dollar faggots,” shouted one reporter before Ifor went through the door, into the building.

Ifor already had an idea to the layout as they went through the corridor, his balls on display, but this wasn’t an area he had frequented. Ifor was walked into an interrogation room with its mirror. Baines pushed Ifor to sit on the lone wood chair bolted on a steel pillar to the floor, in the spotlight in the middle of the room.

A “chair” was a generous term, for the two side by side planks that supported his buttocks, but kept the middle open, so Ifor’s balls dangled, his anus bared, however, he could lean back against the wood. Ifor knew this wasn’t intended to be short, a drain in the floor a hint to his expected duration here. Only bright lights in Ifor’s vision, too bright to really make out Baines.

“I request we wait until I have a lawyer,” Ifor said.

“Don’t think that’s necessary, do you?” Baines said.

“I know the games you’re trained to do,” Ifor said, “You could get a pig to confess to being a banana, but like you, I want the truth, so I need a lawyer.”

“You’ve known me for a long time, you can trust me,” Baines said, “And while your Dad is hiring one, please go over your activities as I presume you’re not hiding anything.”

“I’m naked!” Ifor exclaimed, “What could I possibly be hiding? You know the true size of my dick, did you shoplift your sausage?” Ifor glanced below the waist band of the heavy set man in black, tried to thwart his imagination from dwelling there.

“Take it you’ve never read the jail incident reports,” Baines said, “Now, let’s go over everything and I’ll send for clothes.”

Ifor knew the procedures, and came to understand them as he sat in that chair. His nudity was supposed to be considered shameful, it was a weapon to be exploited when interrogating their subjects—he had saved them from having to do the strip search before the interrogation. While Ifor’s current nudity was no longer voluntary, Ifor felt that with his weeks in Alaska and changed mind, he could remain true to himself in skin; he hoped Risley could withstand this and do the same.

“Barry, he’s asked for a lawyer, twice,” Sgt. Lovell Ulverston said as he entered the room, “Lemme ask the pertinent questions.”

“This is my interrogation,” Baines said.

Ifor caught those eyes of Baines, ones that gave him the same dread as when the hounds were breathing up his ass. Ifor didn’t give Baines the chance of a reply. Though Ifor had been at odds with his father as of late, this was one he could trust.

“What happened to Grant?” Ifor asked, “Why’s he dead?”

“Where were you at ten, last night?” Lovell asked.

“You need to leave,” Baines said to Lovell, “Or I’ll arrest you in front of your son.”

“At the church,” Ifor said to his father, “And why is Grant dead?”

* * *

“Think I’m ready,” Cody said as the sun had already begun to rise outside, “Though only the Lord knows for sure.”

“Give it a try,” said Minister Yule. Coffee cup in hand, in his blue pajamas, where he’d been sitting for the hours since Cody had shown up, a patience that was comforting to Cody.

“Anger, I suppose is why I even took his hand,” Cody said, “Even after, suppose I could’ve rushed, saved him—he was my friend. But when I looked upon that head…” Still in his mind, the head connected by the thinnest bits of skin to a body desperately trying to deliver blood faster than the severed foot, the red smeared across the twitching corpse with those balls that would never deliver another orgasm. “I felt disgusted, he was a smelly piece of garbage. I know, he wasn’t garbage, but I despised it as such. If that train hadn’t been going so fast, if it had stopped, or he purchased a ticket so the train would’ve stopped. It’s his fault and now he’s being judged.”

Cody stopped, Yule waited for a moment.

“I understand the emotion you’re feeling right now—it will pass,” Minister Yule said, “In order to save a soul, you must understand that soul, and it hurts when you lose it. Unfortunately, while you were unable to salvage that soul in this life, it now in the hands of our Lord to decide his fate.”

“Why doesn’t it feel right?” Cody asked.

“By Leviticus, this faggot’s blood is on him, not on you,” Minister Yule said, “You did a great service, the role of the executioner is not to be cherished, but it was justice delivered. Your friend was a conduit for Satan to enter our lives—the Bible recognizes that, which is why it tells us that this was a just and noble deed that you have performed. I know you could also see the good in your friend, and that is to be commended, but he was diseased, and like a limb that has been blackened, has to be amputated. Trust in the Lord to separate the disease from the friend, make him whole, you will be reunited in heaven, and your friend will thank you for your action. If befell the same illness and exorcism were to fail on me, I would expect similar treatment.”

“I think I understand,” Cody said, “It’ll take a while.”

“The first time is never easy, always hard,” Minister Yule said, “Being a shepherd is difficult when you realize that one sick sheep must be put down to save the flock. In time, you will come to accept this truth.”

“Thank you,” Cody said as he stood.

“I believe we are not alone,” Minister Yule said, “—more than God.”

Baris entered the living room, shook Cody’s hand.

“You did good Mr. Vankleeck,” Baris said, “Bit messy for a start, I think we can work with you after all, perhaps in the Darwin division or as an Inquisitor, disposing of the filthy atheists.” He handed over a bit of paper, a copy to his seminary application. “While you’ll be on probation, I’ve already signed. Congratulations.”

Cody felt uneasy, his friend was dead.

* * *

“So, this Penis Handbook , you’re citing the deceased?” Baines asked.

“It belonged to Grant,” Ifor said.

“But you read it,” Baines said, “What would Risley say?”

“I’m not answering to his state of mind,” Ifor said.

“But you’re naked now,” Baines said.

“That was not by choice,” Ifor said, “You stole me fresh out of the shower.”

“With Risley?” Baines asked as he stood between the lights.

“Yes,” Ifor said, his erection returned.

“Yet the thought excites you,” Baines said.

“It goes up and down, all day long, like an elevator,” Ifor snapped.

“You are gay and you know it,” Baines said, “Why do you keep denying it?”

“Your accusation is incorrect,” Ifor said, “Where is my lawyer?”

“Find one that will tolerate the likes of you and won’t cause problems,” Baines said, “Your lack of initiative in getting one doesn’t stop this interview. Now answer the damned question.”

“Who killed Grant Jasper Barnet?” Ifor asked.

“Why did you kill him?” Baines said, “Not like that faggots matter to the maggots.”

“Says the one who steals from the honor kitchen,” Ifor said, “I’ve seen you—”

“Stop spewing bullshit and tell me the honest god damned truth!” Baines said.

“Change the fucking subject!” Ifor retorted.

“Okay, why did he send bus tickets to somebody in West Virginia?” Baines asked, “More faggots?”

Ifor thought’s turned to Dorcia and Maev.

“Best pair of girls ever!” Ifor snapped.

* * *

Danny’s words from the previous night still in Maev’s ears, a desire to add a knife into the next rape, the father’s conceding that Dorcia might be a complete loss. Maev walked to the community church and slipped into the garden shed next to the lawn. Inside, the bottom shelf lined in jerry cans of gasoline near the riding lawn mower.

“This is it,” Maev said to herself, hoped she could carry through.

Maev removed the light bulb to the shed light, reached in, pulled out the center tab. Two alligator clips, on to the tab, the other to the socket, the wires led to an egg timer. She smelled the fumes as she opened the cap, dropped in an electric match, one that was also wired to the egg timer. She rotated the dial to the hour, turned on the light switch, and left.

She walked over to the church, entered.

“Hey,” said Pam, a girl similar to Dorcia, yet shorter.

Pam went into the ladies room, Maev followed.

“What’s up?” Pam asked.

“Um…” Maev reached into the old purse on her shoulder, pulled out two bottles of beer, “Presents for your Dad and Danny—tell him it’s from Dorcia.”

“You know, that might work,” Pam said, “More would guarantee the service to be entertaining.”

“One each is enough,” Maev said, “They can buy more themselves.”

“Don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish,” Pam said, “Sure.”

Pam left the ladies room. Maev double checked the phone and wallet in her pocket, before she tossed the old purse into the trash. Maev entered the sanctuary with the people on the pews. Maev stayed in the back corner, kept an eye on Pam. Pam slid along the benches, gave the beer to her Dad and Danny.

“From me,” Pam said.

Between the Dad and Danny, sat Dorcia with her pigtails up with red ribbons; she had a yellow tank top and red shorts. The Dad immediately popped the cap, guzzled it down, and burped—drew the ire of the others. Danny sipped. Maev sat in the pew in the back corner. Danny fingered a gun on his hip next to his gray hooded sweatshirt.

As the sermon started up, Alpine whispered, “Little boys room” to Danny.

Danny gripped Dorcia while Alpine left the chapel. Maev moved fast, ignored Danny’s eyes, and planted her lips onto Dorcia. Maev glanced at the wide eyes, knew Dorcia wasn’t in on the plan, but she went along with it. Maev’s tongue entered Dorcia’s. Maev kept her eyes moving, the unapproving looks came from the other parishioners. Maev slipped her hands under Dorcia’s shirt, felt the breasts while exaggerated the movements. They rose a bit as Maev pushed Dorcia up to sit on the back of the pew; Dorcia’s shorts slipped down to her ankles, her vulva visible. Maev reached for Dorcia’s clitoris, massaged as they kept kissing.

“Ew—gross!” Danny bellowed.

Danny backed away.

“You want to marry—?” Danny started to say toward the boy the next pew up.

“No!” Wallace snapped.

“Run,” Maev whispered.

Maev and Dorcia were on their feet and ran for the door.

BANG!

Pistol in Danny’s hand, aimed at where the bullet struck the wall. Maev and Dorcia made it into the small greeting hall with some people already. Hands managed to grip both Dorcia’s and Maev’s shirts, both managed to let their shirts rip as they made it outside. Smoke billowed from the garden shed. Maev and Dorcia bolted for the woods.

“FIRE!” came the yell.

Most of the crowd turned toward the orange flames consuming the shed. Danny, however, fired several more shots toward them before Dorcia and Maev entered the woods.

“Come on!” Danny yelled as he followed into the woods, “Couple of stupid rug munchers!”

Maev and Dorcia remained crouched behind the large log as Danny stood a short ways away. A glint of gold, Maev noticed the stream, the shower, as Dorcia peed, understood the Portland boys’ perspective, that a peeing friend is an alive friend. Danny turned around, more intent on his eyes than his ears, several times, before he shrugged and walked away.

“She’ll come back,” Danny grumbled, “Bitches always do.”

Danny left the woods. Maev peeked.

“Come,” Maev whispered.

Running trainers on her feet, Dorcia took the lead. Maev followed her bare butt, ran, as they heard the people in the distance, and more gunfire along with sirens.

“You’re faster,” Maev said a quarter mile later.

“First bit of good news,” Dorcia said, “You’ve got a plan—I hope.”

Dorcia slowed a bit, until Maev kept up. Maev reminded herself to keep an eye on the ground; Dorcia’s flexing buttocks and thigh muscles enticing, and Maev agreed with the Portland boys, Dorcia was a beautiful friend to be treasured. They ran for an hour until they stopped.

“Nice fire,” Dorcia said as she leaned over, “Yours, I trust?”

“Thank Grant for that idea,” Maev said, “When you see him.”

“We’re heading there?” Dorcia said, “Bus?”

“It’s what he could afford,” Maev said, “Besides, they scrutinize air passengers—your Dad’s likely called the cops, right?”

“He won’t be drinking with them until later,” Dorcia said.

“Three thousand miles,” Maev said.

“Bus is faster than running it,” Dorcia said, “Though I’d love to try.”

Maev dropped her jeans and panties as she squatted. She focused on Dorcia’s breasts, the shaved vulva, as she peed.

“Try it naked?” Dorcia said, “Mind you, wasn’t planning on it.”

“My phone’s in my pocket with Grant’s ticket,” Maev said, “Wasn’t my plan either, getting you out of there is.”

Maev stood back up, and they walked. Dorcia pointed and they walked for the bus station.

* * *

Sgt. Lovell Ulverston stopped outside the office of Captain Alexis Sefton, listened.

“Look, you think you’ve got it bad,” Baris said, into the telephone on Alexis Sefton’s desk, “I’ve got a full blown crisis in the making. Three possible manifestations exploded on me—fortunately, one is dead, but I have to hold the kid’s hand who did that. Price we pay to get good recruits. But, now, I have to do what we do best—damage control. Fortunately, there are some battalions in this police department that I can trust, but not the brightest. Duty calls, talk to you later.”

Lovell walked into the office.

“My son is in interrogation,” Lovell said, “I was told you had an opinion.”

“He’s done enough to justify a firing squad,” Baris said as he threw a manila folder onto the desk; he stood up, the trench coat on the rack, the gray suit buttoned up, the sunglasses bore down.

“It’s that bad?” Lovell asked.

“Yes,” Baris said, “Zero faith—and I mean none. A homosexual witnessed engaging in such acts on multiple occasions. He barely managed to pass his last quarter of school due to the help of others more qualified. He’s shrugged off multiple interventions to help him believe in the Lord or Jesus Christ. It is my opinion that Ifor Lovell Ulverston is a disgrace to all of us, and the resources of this planet are better spent elsewhere.”

“Sorry, you must forgive me,” Lovell said, “It’s not that bad, and to forgive is divine—”

“Then discipline Ifor—he is your son for Christ’s sake,” Baris said, “And he’d have to make a fantastic turnaround—we’re talking days, not years. Do that, and we might have something to go on.”

“Then you’d spare—” Lovell started.

“I’m promising nothing,” Baris said, “Remember that—nothing, so you have to impress me that Ifor is a believer.”

“Yes,” Lovell said.

“Captain Kex is willing to help you,” Baris said, “Your son is depending on you.”

Lovell left the office, he went to his squad car, pulled out his phone, and dialed the next lawyer on his list.

* * *

Maev’s phone finished its charging and she turned it back on as the wheels of the bus moved them westward that afternoon, out of West Virginia. Dorcia by the window, Maev by the aisle, the blanket at the ready as her phone chimed. It scanned her nipples.

“Shh,” Maev said “We’re on the bus.”

“Good, got you at last,” Alfonso said, “Smooth exit—not.”

“It got the job done,” Maev said.

“We were all worried,” Alfonso said, “Change in plan, though.”

“Why?” Maev asked.

“Tell you when you get here,” Alfonso said, “You’re currently heading to Louisville, Kentucky, correct?”

“And going to St. Louis—” Maev started.

“Get off in Louisville, head for Atlanta,” Alfonso said, “Make your way here.”

“What’s happening?” Maev asked.

“Too sensitive for chat,” Alfonso said, “I look forward to seeing you.”

Alfonso vanished.

“Who’s he?” Dorcia asked.

“He helped with planning,” Maev said, “Ifor and them were insistent on getting you out.”

“Wasn’t the best of situations,” Dorcia said.

“I trust their judgment, you’re better off anywhere else—sorry, I think your family’s rotten,” Maev said, “I’m guessing they’re headed for Florida.”

“Oh,” Dorcia said, “Now it makes sense.”

Maev drew the blanket over them both, naked beneath it. Maev felt those fingers, the ones determined to tease her clitoris, her folds, until she felt the contractions of her orgasm. Maev sighed and relaxed.


	43. Swine

“See how disgusting you can be?” Baines said as Ifor’s bowels dropped a turd beneath him, “Now, lets hear the right answer. Can you confirm the total number of blowjobs you gave the deceased numbered at least a dozen?”

“Sit and spin,” Ifor said, “I asked for a lawyer. Where is he?”

“Only lawyer you need is God,” Baines said, “Do we need to enhance this?”

Baines took a water bottle, poured it on Ifor’s head, Ifor lapped at the water.

“Disgusting animal,” Baines snapped.

Ifor’s soft penis responded, peed.

Monday, August 24th

Ifor lost track of the time, he’d knew he’d been in that room for a while, felt the edge of fatigue. Bright lights threatening a sunburn on his naked skin with his nipples out, his penis below his fluffy light brown pubic hair dribbled freely, and unsure if a feather was being used on his balls or not, or whether it’s a waking dream. Ifor smelled the urine, unsure if it was his or if Baines ignored his latest cup of coffee — though Baines had gone quiet in the dark for extended periods of time.

“I’ve got the record, forty nine hours,” Baines said, “And I can get relieved by the detective.

Pfffpt!

Ifor felt another bowel movement, a smaller turd dropped. Ifor’s stomach growled.

“You can’t even hold it,” Baines said, “Now, got any words to end this?”

“Hey!” came the exclaim from outside.

Into the light came the face, Ifor uncertain if he was having delusions, Lovell along with two others. A burly tall man and a shorter one.

“Otis,” Baines said, to the burly tall man, “Still working on him.”

“I’m disappointed,” Captain Kex said. Ifor unsure if Kex was being formally correct or not. “You need a refresher. This is Bryan Roberts—the lawyer he’s asked for, repeatedly, rendering the whole interview pointless.”

“He does not consent to this session of torture,” Roberts said, pointed to the droppings beneath Ifor, “Denial of proper bathroom facilities is strictly interpreted as the first stage of torture.”

“Rinse the pig off,” Kex said, “Can’t have him mucking up the courtroom.”

“Court?” Ifor asked.

“Wasn’t told—” Roberts started.

“Consider yourself told,” Kex said.

Ifor wasn’t sure who did it, however, he felt the jet of water spray down his butt, his anus. His dick appeared to enjoy it, and stiffened into an erection. He was pulled upright and made to walk, through the corridors, to the tunnel toward the courthouse. Ifor knew it was across the street, and heard a bit of the tires of cars above.

“Keep quiet,” Baines said, “Listen to the judge and you do as the judge tells you to do.”

Handcuffs still on his hands behind the back, Ifor’s balls were loose as they got into the elevator. Baines stood in front of the panel, turned and kept his eyes on Ifor.

“Interested?” Ifor asked.

“Charges are already serious,” Baines said, “Keep adding to them, your brains will be in the gutter soon enough.”

Ifor understood the threat as they came to one of the upper floors, where Baines escorted Ifor along the corridor. They entered the courtroom from the side door, with fast access to the court–right side defendant’s small table; Risley already to one side, also sporting a hard erection. Ifor understood why Risley was standing a moment later when his handcuffs were secured to the horizontal bar, Ifor had to face forward, his butt to his Dad sitting a couple of feet behind.

Pfffpt!

Between Risley and Ifor, Roberts was sitting at the table, papers on the polished oak.

“Honorable Judge Alton Hammond,” announced the bailiff.

Roberts rose as the man in a black robe entered from the back.

“Disgusting,” the man muttered, his eyes upon Ifor and Risley, as he sat behind the bench.

“Your honor,” Roberts said, “Defense moves to delay this proceeding on grounds of basic human dignity.”

“Their current condition is part of the evidence of record,” the prosecutor said.

“Motion denied,” Judge Hammond said, “Swine are pigs.”

“Tough,” Roberts muttered.

“We are here to consider the serious charges against the joint defendants Ifor Lovell Ulverston and Risley Edgar Gillespie,” Judge Hammond said, “Count one, murder of Grant Jasper Barnet. Count two, voluntary manslaughter of Grant Jasper Barnet. Count three, assault of Grant Jasper Barnet. Count four, homosexual sodomy against Grant Jasper Barnet. Count five, homosexual sodomy with each other. Count six, public exposure of sexual organs on repeated occasions, including now. Count seven, using sexual organs while publicly exposed. Count eight, adultery. Count nine, refusal to get circumcised in line with common faith and morals. Count ten, renunciation of faith. Count eleven, conspiracy to encourage others to renounce their faith. Count twelve, arson of a motor vehicle. Count thirteen, terrorism and sabotage in relation to the Steele Bridge. How do you plead?”

“My clients plead not guilty, your honor,” Roberts said.

“Trial will start Tuesday, September twenty ninth,” Judge Hammond said, “Is this a problem?”

“No,” the prosecutor and Roberts said.

“I see that pre–trial terms have already been negotiated but some time is required for preparations?” Judge Hammond asked.

“Yes, your honor,” Lovell said, behind Ifor.

“Mr. Ifor Lovell Ulverston and Mr. Risley Edgar Gillespie,” Judge Hammond said, “Until your trial or such other time as this court directs, you will be placed under house arrest. During this time, you will find your faith and you are under a no contact restraining order against contacting your victim or their family in any way, shape or form. This includes the family of, the house of, any services of, and the grave of Grant Jasper Barnet.”

“My clients understand,” Roberts said.

“I need to hear it from them,” Judge Hammond said.

Roberts nudged.

“Yes,” Ifor said.

“Yes,” Risley said.

“You will be held at the jail until Captain Kex assures that house arrest can be maintained,” Judge Hammond said, “Circumcision is hereby ordered to be completed before trial. Now get these swine out of my courtroom!”

Ifor, with his wrists still in handcuffs behind his back, was led out of the courtroom first, down the elevator, before they entered the tunnel.

“Your kind ought to be castrated,” Baines said.

Ifor was too tired to take the bait. Instead, he walked as he was prodded to do, to a large general cell with others. Risley showed up a moment later, Hicklin with him.

“In!” Baines barked before the metal door opened.

As Risley and Ifor entered, a bundle of clothes were tossed at their feet before the door closed.

“Here!” Hicklin said.

Ifor felt the key, the handcuffs slipped off and he stretched his arms. Another click, Risley did the same. They heard the footsteps, the two officers left

“Damn!” Risley said.

Ifor glanced at where the clothes had landed, already gone. They sat down on a bench by a table, next to Risley.

“So,” Risley whispered, “We’re now naked in jail, how could it get worse?”

“Circumcision, castration?” Ifor asked.

“Ouch,” Risley said.

“We’re riding upstream against the rapids here,” Ifor said, “Only way to make headway is to keep paddling.”

“Our stars!” came the holler from another inmate.

Risley and Ifor went over, to the television mounted behind bars. On it was the surveillance video from the light rail station, dated Saturday night. No audio, however, it showed Grant at the ticket machine, turned as another approached. Blue dress shirt, the golden brown hair, and the hands that reached, pushed Grant into the path of the oncoming train.

“Cody!” Ifor exclaimed, feeling the betrayal, “It was fucking Cody!”

“Why are we in here?” Risley asked.

“Good question,” Ifor muttered.

Ifor moved into a smaller cell with mattresses, sat on one. Risley stood nearby.

“What do we do?” Risley asked.

“We both know the answer to that,” Ifor said, “But little detail of being in jail. Fuck me.”

“What?” Risley stammered.

“We’re young and naked in jail—what do you think will happen to us?” Ifor said, “Likely eyeing us our nice butts now. So, if it’s to happen, I’d rather it be you.”

“Alright, deal,” Risley said.

“Now,” Ifor said, however, he yawned, slumped into a slumber.

* * *

Ifor woke to fingers around his anus, in the jail cell, his back flat on the table, legs up in the air. Risley on his knees between the legs, the other hand teased Ifor’s balls. Both dicks were stiff.

“Good, you’re awake,” Risley said, “They were—best to get it over with.”

“Oh,” Ifor said, unaware they were actually going to go through with it.

“For Grant,” Risley said.

“For Grant,” Ifor replied.

A whistle.

“Everybody up!” came the shout.

Risley and Ifor got off the table, stood, both with hard erections.

“You two, over here!” said Baines as he approached, “Turn around when you get here.”

Ifor turned around, approached, and felt the handcuffs got back onto his wrists behind his back.

“Do not make this difficult,” Baines said, “It’s the best deal you’ll get. So keep quiet and come along.”

Baines opened the door, Ifor and Risley followed, together. Hard erections, balls dangling, and pubic hair; Ifor and Risley left the jail, put into the back of the same patrol car. Baines got in, drove.

“I understand we got a lot of good footage,” Baines said, “Be a shame if it got released.”

Risley shook his head as Ifor glanced at him.

“Make trouble and you get sent back to jail,” Baines said, “And we won’t be as selective to your cell—be with people who’d like your pretty little asses.”

They approached the residence on Briarwood. In the middle of the front lawn, four melted tires, a burned out shell of pickup, Ifor’s pickup. Baines parked next to the house, moved over to the passenger side, and opened the door. Ifor got out.

“You too,” Baines said to Risley.

“This isn’t my—” Risley started.

“Is too—can’t squander too many to watch you two,” Baines said.

Risley got out. With Baines behind them, they climbed the steps, the stairs. Ifor paused as he stepped into his bedroom—still green, bot otherwise cleaned out of nearly everything.

“Where—?” Ifor asked. His desk and dresser had all the drawers removed.

“Nothing seditious allowed,” Baines said.

Risley went inside, where Baines released the handcuffs from them.

“They’re your responsibility now,” Baines said to Lovell. Baines went down the stairs.

“You can get dressed now,” Lovell stated as Ifor turned to him.

“With what?” Ifor said as the hatred brewed for the blindness of this man, “Don’t feel like it.”

“You can’t keep ducking responsibility for your actions,” Lovell said, “You need to man up and accept the consequences.”

“Tell that for Cody for killing—” Ifor started.

“Numerous eyewitnesses stated you both killed him,” Lovell said, “Be grateful they let you out on house arrest—likely budget reasons, until your conviction. You’ll be pleading guilty.”

“We didn’t—” Risley started until Ifor shook his head.

“You’re forcing us—?” Ifor asked as he picked up the bible set on his desk, the only book in the room.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you just believed,” Lovell said, “Is it really that difficult? Just believe—that’s all I’m asking. I want my son whole, like you used to be. Alyce and Edger want the same.”

“It’s not happening,” Ifor stated, he glared at Lovell, “You don’t understand a damn thing! I HATE you!”

“If I can’t convince you,” Lovell said, “I know somebody who can.”

Lovell ducked out. Cody came to the door, in his red T–shirt.

“Still pigs,” Cody said, “Likely enjoying it.”

Ifor glanced past Cody, noticed his father still there.

“Said your bit? Ifor asked.

“I’m sorry,” Cody said, “Sorry for everything.”

“You FINK!” Ifor shouted, “You disgust me—he was your _friend_ or so you claimed before you murdered him in cold blood. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon!”

“What he said,” Risley snapped, “Rot in HELL!”

Ifor spat before he slammed the door closed, one with a freshly installed cat door. They heard bolts sliding on the other side, Risley responded by sliding the bolts on this side. Ifor spun around his room, his screen now had an old fashioned television instead, flat panel. He went past his bed, a mattress with sheets and a single comforter. Glanced out at the burned out remains of his pickup.

“Not getting us to Florida,” Ifor muttered.

Ifor turned around, glanced at the closet, with a chamber pot, realized they could get out, now, but they had no wallets, no phones, no other means to travel, and they’d have to do so with stealth as they were under house arrest.

Ifor glanced at Risley sitting on the mattress, legs a bit spread, pointed. Ifor turned around, sat between them with his back toward Risley. Risley wrapped his arms around Ifor’s waist, pulled Ifor close until Risley’s chin was on Ifor’s shoulder. Risley’s hands reached down, his fingers held Ifor’s balls, while the thumbs looped over Ifor’s penis. Risley’s tears dribbled down Ifor’s chest, the fingers massaged into Ifor’s scrotum.

Ifor knew this was Risley’s best medicine, heard the breathing change, the one hinting to a new thought, while Ifor’s penis became a stiff erection.

“Did we push him too far?” Risley asked.

“How does that justify anything?” Ifor said, “He would’ve been at home when we left the church, he didn’t have to go out, he didn’t have to break curfew, to seek out Grant. We asked a bazillion times and he assured us he was okay, but it was him who pushed Grant, it was him who killed Grant. He’s to blame, not us, and I regret ever considering him a friend.”

Risley pulled on Ifor a bit more.

“Trying to strangle—?” Ifor started.

“Not letting go,” Risley said, his eyes shifted down to Ifor’s hard erection, “I’ve lost two friends already, I don’t want to lose you too.”

Risley’s fingers massaged into the hard cock, the eyes kept their downward focus at Ifor’s stiff erection, the foreskin slipped as Risley jerked. Ifor felt the skill that Risley had picked up, kept the tremors at bay, until a few minutes later, when Ifor felt it. A spasm, a quiver, Ifor’s orgasm came, the pulsations. Risley’s eyes tracked the shot of off–white onto the floor, as Ifor’s slit unleashed its torrent.

“Friends for life?” Risley asked.

“As long as it lasts,” Ifor muttered.

Risley pulled a bit on Ifor, they fell onto their sides. Ifor pulled the comforter over them, felt Risley’s hard dick near his buttocks, and Ifor thought about letting it slip in. Instead, Risley held on tighter as Ifor drifted to sleep.


	44. Pigs

Cody stood in the hallway outside the small meeting room in the Acts 1:8 Church.

“Yes,” Baris said into the phone, “I’ve got a problem, it’s simply time to put the pigs down—nothing fancy like calling in Darwin. … Unfortunately, I’ve got to ask for permission to bring in a few janitors to clean up this mess, it means paperwork. … end of the week? Yes, they’re confined, should be stable. … Understood. … Bless the Lord, good bye.”

Cody entered the small meeting room.

* * *

Tuesday, August 25th

“Dorcia!”

Dorcia ignored Maev’s plea, walked into the small shop outside the bus terminal in Dolbourne, Florida. Dorcia walked to the counter, juggled her naked breasts at the young man behind it.

“No cash on me,” Dorcia said, “Can I have a tall espresso?”

Dorcia took a step back, her finger caressed her clitoris, rubbed it.

“Extra cream?” Dorcia asked.

Dorcia watched the blush of this blond haired man, he grabbed a bank note out of the tip jar. The man brought the cup to the spigot, filled it.

“Milk?” the man asked.

“A little bit,” Dorcia said.

A moment later, the man handed the hot cup over, with a lid on it. Dorcia grabbed napkins and a straw, went back outside.

“You had to!” Maev said.

“I’m naked,” Dorcia said, “Amazing the number of things you can have by showing your tits around.”

“That _is_ prostitution,” Maev said.

“That requires sex,” Dorcia said.

“Maev!” came the holler.

In matching green shirt and jeans, a teenage girl nearby.

“That’s her,” Maev said.

Maev and Dorcia went over.

“I’m Heather,” said the girl, “Alfonso said you were expected. This way.”

“Any news on three boys from Portland?” Dorcia asked.

“Too many ears here,” Heather said, “I’ll let them fill you in.”

Heather led them to a van with _Pleiades Monastery_ marked on the side. They got in. Heather drove for a short while, over rail tracks as they entered the industrial area, before they came to a large yellow steel sided building, among a sea of more rusted ones many.

“Forgot to ask—luggage?” Heather asked.

“No,” Maev said, “We left nearly everything behind.”

“If you need anything, ask,” Heather said.

“Vibrator?” Dorcia asked, “Double–ended?”

“There may be one or two already,” Heather said.

“You had to ask that?” Maev asked Dorcia.

“It’s the thing you miss the most,” Dorcia replied as they got out of the van.

Heather opened the door; they walked into a small office–like room, filing cabinets and a desk, with Heather’s nameplate on it. Bangs, blue eyes, sixteen–year old Aleck was there, his erection stiffening.

“Airport,” Aleck said.

“Oh, yeah,” Heather said, “Sorry you two girls, I’ve got to make another pickup run. Plenty of people here to give you a tour, good luck.”

Heather left.

“You’re naked,” Maev said.

“We all are,” Aleck said, “You’re nearly there yourselves.”

“Oh,” Dorcia said as she removed her shoes, the socks that she hadn’t changed in days.

“We understand people take time,” Aleck said, “Though earlier the better. This way.”

“Come on,” Dorcia said to Maev, “Let them see your beautiful side—you let Ifor in.”

Maev unbuttoned her jeans, dropped them, placed her phone on the desk.

“Yeah, we’ve got a collection, put a sticky note so we know whose is which,” Aleck said, “Carrying them is…problematic.”

Dorcia and Maev followed Aleck’s bare butt up the stairs.

“We’re going up to the office level,” Aleck said, “You know, administrative, but you’re free to wander anywhere. Above that is a makeshift dormitory, sleep as you see fit.”

Dorcia glanced down the corridor as they came out of the turn of the stairs, Dorcia recognized Joe and Grant on the sofa in the room, however, Aleck took an immediate left.

“An undress code, know three who’d love this,” Maev said.

Aleck paused as Alfonso came out of the small room.

“Portland,” Alfonso said.

“What about Portland?” Dorcia asked.

Maev and Dorcia followed Aleck into the small room, on the screen inside was Peace with her brown hair above her breasts.

“They’ve been charged with Grant’s murder!” Peace said.

“What’s this—?” Dorcia started.

“Sorry, more tact would’ve been better,” Aleck said, “Late Saturday, their time, Grant was killed.”

“Oh,” Dorcia said as she slumped down along the wall. Tears welled up in her, remembered the joy he brought, the promises to meet up, promises that were no longer possible.

“Risley and Ifor were taken into custody,” Aleck said, “They didn’t kill him, but details of their ordeal leaked and are presumed homosexuals, you know how _that_ goes.”

“Plea bargain is in the works,” Peace said, “They’re going to be pleading guilty.”

“Why?” Dorcia asked.

“Avoids the death penalty—and the bias already against them, any trial wouldn’t be fair,” Aleck said, “I managed to hack the jail where they were being held, showed them the surveillance video, so hopefully they know by now who killed Grant.”

“Where are Risley and Ifor now?” Maev asked.

“House arrest,” Peace said, “At Ifor’s house, in Ifor’s bedroom—pretty damn restrictive with a castration scheduled for Friday.”

“Circumcision?” Dorcia asked.

“Both,” Peace said, “Not sure if they know about the impending castration.”

“Open their door,” Dorcia said.

“Not that simple,” Aleck said, “Moment they leave that house, they’re fugitives, we can’t harbor them anywhere but here. Alfonso is working on a plan.”

“Hey,” came the call.

Dorcia turned, cinnamon red pubic hair, same as the head, she recognized him, Jarred, as he came over, gave her a hug.

“Condoms and other forms of birth control are downstairs,” Aleck said.

“Plenty of dicks,” Maev said.

“All friends here,” Aleck said, “Scream if they’re anything but friendly.”

Dorcia left with Jarred.

“Show you around,” Jarred said, “Her too, if she wants.”

“Not everybody makes it here,” Dorcia said.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jarred said, “Who are you worried over?”

“Ifor and Risley—I meant BaldBlue and WoodyElf,” Dorcia said, “Met them already and their friend that’s now dead—lemme tell you about them.”

Dorcia and Jarred went down the hall, to the leather sofa, sat on it.

* * *

Risley ripped a page from the Bible, used it to wipe his butt over the chamber pot, tossed it in.

“Nasty,” Risley said.

“Guess they’re afraid we’ll eat the toilet paper?” Ifor asked as he turned over.

“Wasn’t referring to the shit,” Risley said.

Ifor stayed on the bed, watched Risley pace. Chest with the dark pubic hair, before he turned around, and it was the buttocks.

“You were about to—in the cell,” Ifor said, “My ass.”

A memory of the anticipation, and Ifor’s penis stiffened.

“You liked the idea?” Risley asked.

“Tempting,” Ifor admitted, “Aren’t you curious?”

“Not really,” Risley said, “Though if it’s to be done, rather it be you, even if you’re getting off on it.”

Ifor retracted his foreskin, let the pink glans out with its slit.

“I am curious,” Ifor said, “You, I can trust you with this.”

Risley turned to the television, turned it on. He pressed the channel guide, only two listed.

“Funny choices,” Risley said.

“One guess who picked them,” Ifor said.

Risley turned it to the first channel, Aubley Wurtz’s Exorcism 101 with Minister Yule on it.

“Trying to get Satan out of any boy is a tall task,” Minister Yule said, “If you watch the footage of the infected, you see it here—”

A clip shown of Ifor’s and Risley’s ejaculations outside the house, the semen dripping.

“Blood of the devil,” the Minister said as he pointed to the off–white liquid, “Lord will protect only when you’re in wedlock, under strict conditions. Now, the boys of my church, this isn’t necessary as they’re all certified to be clean of his influence. However, in lesser churches, their so–called–clergy will try to bleed the devil dry.”

Ifor got up, changed the channel to the other one.

“Good,” Risley said, “Didn’t need a repeat of my—were they calling it an exorcism?” Risley said.

“If Grant were here, he’d agree we’d have to repeat it…” Ifor said, “Miss him already.”

“Oregon Department of Transportation,” said the reporter on the screen, “While they did not anticipate sabotage, is currently working on a contingency plan devised some years ago in case this type of failure were to occur. Inspection of the bridge is ongoing and the department is coordinating with the Coast Guard for permission to bolt the lower deck into place so that the upper deck can be used for pedestrians and light rail once again. Engineers are determining to what extent the lower deck can be used—I’m anticipating that passenger trains but not freight trains may be permitted to use the lower deck. Just when all of this is happening, I cannot tell you at this time.”

“At least that’s looking better,” Risley said, “Think Cody had a hand in it?”

“Why not? He pinned his murder on us,” Ifor said as he turned the television off, “I don’t want to hear his name again, I’d rather be locked up again.”

“Good thing I can tolerate your butt,” Risley said.

“I know,” Ifor said as he sat on his bed next to Risley, ran his fingers through the hair on his head as he leaned against the wall. “All we got was a change in jailers.”

“I know where your dick has been,” Risley said.

“True,” Ifor said, “It’s going to Florida.”

“That thing?” Risley said, “We turned Jaimie down.”

“Grant’s dead! Charged with his death?!” Ifor said as he stood back up, “Circumcision? It’s signs we ought to heed.”

“We’ll get a fair shake at trial,” Risley said.

“Are you that naive?” Ifor said as he glanced out the window, at the occupied cop car, one held a rifle, aimed toward him. Ifor moved away, fast. “Somehow, I doubt we’ll get that.”

Ifor paced his bedroom, by the vaulted edge. Risley grinned.

“What?” Ifor asked.

“You sucked his dick,” Risley said, “One spectacular blowjob in front of everybody, he enjoyed it, something that’ll have to last him inot the afterlife.”

Ifor snorted for a moment.

“Suppose I did,” Ifor said.

“Sex with a girl would’ve been even better,” Risley said, “A friend giving him head, not too shabby.”

“Jealous?” Ifor glanced at Risley’s hard erection.

“No,” Risley stated.

“Too bad, avoid the monster,” Ifor said, “Don’t make me wish I blew you.”

“Suppose this means the academy is off?” Risley asked.

“Not interested it anymore,” Ifor said, “Funny that.”

Risley curled his fingers around his stiff shaft, began to jerk, his eyes stared at Ifor. A couple of minutes later, the off–white flew up, poured down his shaft.

“Paraded—showed this on the news,” Risley stated.

“Don’t get it, do you?” Ifor said, “It’s about control. We’re supposed to want to stay clothed, dressed, we’re supposed to be ashamed of our nudity. Why? So they can control you with the shame it’s supposed to bring. They’ll curse and punish when you try to control it. By seizing that decision from them, we steal their control, regain our freedom—that’s what Jaimie realizes. They should not have paraded us outside in front of the cameras with our boners for the five o’clock news, but they did. They should not have triggered our orgasms, but they did, because it’s about domination and intimidation. I agree with Jaimie, refuse their gestures, seize their power, and we decide. I’m going to remain naked. You?”

“They’ll make you—” Risley said.

“I’m not going to make it easy for them,” Ifor said.

“Count me in,” Risley said.

“If they parade us outside, we’ll be in our birthday suits,” Ifor said, “Have fun, whack it, or each other. Point is, we’re in control of our bodies, not them.”

“Before or after our circumcisions?” Risley asked.

“Hopefully not,” Ifor said, “I’d rather be dead—sorry, but Dad’s rolling over to their demands.”

“Don’t be dead,” Risley said.

“What’s their next demand?” Ifor said, “Do you want to find out?”

“So how do we get to Florida?” Risley said, “They destroyed your pickup.”

“I’ve already seen a rifle,” Ifor said, “They’re ready to kill us if we leave this house, and I doubt there’s only one out there. For the moment, we’re safest in this room, but not for long.”

Ifor moved the chamber pot to be more central in the bedroom, smelled it, as he stepped back. Ifor glanced at Risley’s watching eyes, peed into it.

“Out of this room, trivial,” Ifor said, “To Florida, that’s the hard part.”

“What day is it?” Risley asked.

“Oh…um…” Ifor counted on his fingers, “Today the twenty fourth?”

“Twenty fifth!” Risley exclaimed.

“Shit!” Ifor said, “Sorry, forgot your birthday yesterday. I’d say happy sixteen, but it wasn’t happy.”

“Forgive you, this time,” Risley said.

“Nothing to give,” Ifor said, “Except…daily blow for sixteen days?”

“Rain check,” Risley said.

* * *

Maev spent her time in that small room, with the screens, heard as Aleck and Alfonso chatted with others, worked on travel plans for many others. Most were ordinary, some in minor trouble. Maev felt it a bit strange, being here, where people focused on the chores despite the nudity. Alfonso had quite a bit of hair in front of his balls beneath his soft circumcised penis.

“How many people?” Maev asked.

“Hundreds,” Alfonso said, “They all want to join up.”

“Flying—on our arks?” Maev asked.

“Over a hundred,” Alfonso said.

“Already have too many,” Maev said.

“We can’t take everybody,” Alfonso said, “Some will drop out, others, well, hope your bonding here helps form a good network on the ground, we’ll need to know what’s happening, ideas, that sort. Maybe in time, more ships can be built and sent.”

“YES!” Aleck shouted as he pushed his fists up into the air, “I’m a genius!”

Dorcia and Jarred returned.

“So, why’d they wait so long to come?” Dorcia said, “They’d love it here, maybe Grant’d be…”

Dorcia wept again, Jarred held her up, condom over his erection beneath his cinnamon red pubic hair.

“What’s the news?” Alfonso asked.

“I know how to get them out of Portland,” Aleck said, “Gotta figure out how to get them out of the house.”

“They’re coming?” Jarred asked.

“We can’t directly talk to them, but if they’re at all as you described, I doubt they’re going to want to stay,” Alfonso said, “All we can do is give them breadcrumbs to follow.”

“If they don’t?” Maev asked.

“Then they’ve made up their minds,” Aleck said, “We won’t get another chance to smuggle two fugitives cross country.”

“Hope it works,” Dorcia said.

* * *

Captain Alexis Sefton glanced into Captain Kex’s office, Baris working at it, and she walked faster to avoid a witness. She reached her own, where the impression on the cushion still was from him. She spun her chair on its swivel, it squeaked as fast as she could spin it, the impression mellowing out, when the tall Cody entered her office.

“Captain Sefton?” Cody whispered.

“Close the door,” Alexis replied as she gave another spin to her chair, the squeak filled the office.

Cody closed the door, his amber brown eyes on her. Alexis stopped the chair.

“Mr. Baris said I’m getting a commendation tomorrow,” Cody whispered.

“So I heard,” Alexis said.

“Before he knew I was there, I overheard him,” Cody said, “Told Captain Kex that he should be ready to put the pigs down.”

“Who was he referring to?” Alexis asked.

“At least Risley and Ifor,” Cody said, “I’m dating Marcia, I can’t put her through her brother’s death, again. It might’ve been the whole bible study.”

“Thank you Mr. Vankleeck,” Alexis said, unsure to his intentions, “What put you up to this?”

“God,” Cody said as he turned around, “God said enough is enough.”

Cody left the office. Captain Alexis Sefton pulled up the duty roster, called Oswald Bell, and crossed her fingers it wasn’t a trap.


	45. Leaving

Wednesday, August 26th

Darkness shrouded the roses as Alexis stood in a gray hooded sweatshirt along with matching gray sweatpants over her uniform, in the Rose Gardens. Ainsley and Jai were the first to show.

“We were told…” Ainsley started.

“Early wakeup time,” Jai grumbled.

Peace and Locke were next, along with a few others. Alexis surveyed them all, pulled her hood down.

“Good morning,” Alexis said.

“What’s happening?” Locke asked.

“About Grant, right?” Peace asked.

Alexis picked a rose.

“Nearly the entire city has a pest problem,” Alexis said, “However, an impromptu memorial service for the fallen is rarely a problem. An ark, a covenant, leads to an eulogy.”

Alexis pulled out a slender black device from her pocket, it’s green indicator light flashed.

“Like morality, there are people who wish to see freedoms of old, the utopia of old, restored,” Alexis said, “For morality, you have official and unofficial groups, including janitors. However, for those who value freedom, it’s a fragmented, loose, collection of people who stand guard—looking for kids who can persevere despite the hurdles. Through Ifor and Risley, I found you. However, a threat has been levied, and the truth is, we’re losing, but we will not surrender.

“I spoke with Oswald Bell, father to someone who recently visited you, he had married a childhood friend of mine—she’s since passed away. Truth is, Jaimie’s plan is the best to come along in several generations with the muscle to support it. If I were your age, knowing what I know now, I’d be heading to Florida right now. So, those who do not wish to follow, can wander or leave these gardens. Those who wish to join Jaimie, I’ll assist—based on the warning I have received, you had best do it today, if possible.”

“What about Ifor and Risley?” Ainsley asked.

“They are trapped,” Alexis said, “Best I can do for them is to clear a path—to follow through, that will be up to them.”

* * *

“You sure about this?” Risley asked Ifor that evening, “Once I do, there’s no going back.”

Ifor was already on his front on the bed, his butt up into the air, his hard cock pressed against the sheets.

“Like we’ve got much else to do,” Ifor said, “Best to practice, go ahead.”

Ifor felt Risley’s hard cock press into the crack between the buttocks, drag down.

“Sure?” Risley asked as the tip loitered, wedged between the cheeks, near the anus.

The television turned itself on.

“Ruined the mood,” Ifor said, “Before bed, no questions.”

Risley sat on the bed, Ifor moved next to him. Ifor’s fingers traced the edge of Risley’s glans, touched the slit. Ifor glanced at his own dick, loitering below, the slight widening before it reached the shoulder of his glans beneath the foreskin.

“It’s the Commissioner,” Risley said.

Music with God Bless America playing. On the stage, Cody stood in a dress white shirt, white slacks, with a white tie. In black uniform and white gloves, Commissioner Clewer took to the podium.

“For exceptional service to the city of Portland,” the Commissioner said, “We award you this medal of valor.”

Commissioner Clewer buttoned a medal onto Cody’s white shirt.

“Is that for—?” Risley started.

“We pray you continue this level of dedication to helping rid Portland of its evil demons,” the Commissioner continued.

Ifor tapped the power button, but the picture remained.

“Is that your Dad?” Risley asked, pointed at the screen.

A message scrolled across the screen. “Aleck and Shelby reporting on shift change at Union Station.”

“What’s that mean?” Ifor asked.

“How do we bust out?” Risley asked, “Check!”

They both went to the window, no cop car.

“It’s them,” Risley said, “Florida, here we come!”

“Follow me,” Ifor stated.

Ifor went to his closet, reached into the back, slid the small bolt that secured the tiny door. Their feet stepped on the rafters of the ceiling below, underneath the eves of the house.

“Trouble is,” Ifor said as he stepped in front of the other small door, “Nessa’s got a latch too.”

Risley threw his weight, slammed his shoulder against the door, and it bounced.

“One, two, three!” Ifor shouted, and they threw their weight together.

Crack!

It yielded as the tiny hook latch flew. A crash as they pushed to shove Nessa’s stuff out of the way, and walked through her room.

“I should apologize for that,” Ifor said.

“Got a place to be,” Risley said, “Send her a note—later.”

They went down the stairs, took a fast right. Risley grabbed a small black comb from the dresser as they walked through Ifor’s parents’ bedroom. Risley combed his pubic hair.

“You’re worried about your bush?” Ifor asked.

“Here!” Risley said as he handed it over. “Should I straighten the edges out?” Risley’s hands pointed to both verticals on his left and right, “Lack clippers though.”

Ifor ran it fast through his fluffy pubic hair. He went, opened the front door, showed the darkening of the evening already under way. Ifor’s erection, like Risley’s, jutted outward. Ifor went down the steps, glanced at the burned remains of his pickup, before he turned his head.

“Don’t see anything,” Risley said.

“Stay hard,” Ifor said, teasing his foreskin.

Their balls bounced, their cocks swayed, as they ran past the empty spot where the cop car had been sitting for the past several days.

“This way,” Risley said as he pointed toward the light rail station.

“Nice butt,” Ifor said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Risley replied

Pfffpt! .

“Light rail,” Risley said as he pointed.

Ifor caught the glances out of the windows at them, figured the interest wasn’t in their nipples.

“Lets hope this work or we’ll be fools,” Ifor said.

They came to a stop for the traffic light. Risley bent over, butt aimed toward a waiting car.

Pfffpt!

Ifor caught it, the anus that dilated, let out a bit of the brown, before the muscles clenched up. Ifor glanced at the car window, the faces with clear expressions of disgust.

“Go,” Risley stated.

Ifor followed Risley as they returned to running. Ifor kept his focus a bit onto Risley’s rump, a sphincter that held onto the new brown tail.

“That’s going to—” Ifor started as he caught back up, side by side.

“Don’t care,” Risley said, “Okay, so I do care—I’m disgusted at this, having to run for our lives!”

They came to the light rail station, a big picture of Grant, underneath, flowers, pictures, shoes and toys.

“Freaky,” Ifor muttered as they heard the brakes, a tear came to his face, a friend he wasn’t supposed to be using the past tense for, all those complaints of undercooked trout, he’d trade those to get Grant back.

Risley pulled on Ifor, they got onto the stopped train.

“Pass is at home,” Ifor said.

“Mine’s hanging on my butt,” Risley said.

Train neither empty nor full. Several people on the front end glanced at them, walked off. More near the rear moved forward. Risley gripped both handles, door open, moved his butt outward, squatted, as the muscles continued. As the warning for the doors sounded, brown sludge moved and he aimed his brown across the gap to the platform as it dropped. Part of it fell down between the gap, some got trapped between the doors. Risley rushed to get his butt out of the way of the closing doors.

“Totally justified,” Ifor said, it summed up how Ifor felt about Portland at the moment, a stranger, an outsider.

“Totally,” Risley replied.

Ifor and Risley glanced at the back bench, occupied by a youthful trio, two boys and a girl; the girl’s eyes toward Risley and Ifor. Ifor and Risley held onto the bars, stood there facing her, as her eyes darted back and forth. Ifor’s hard erection appreciated the view, it was not going away, as she watched his balls bounce with the moving train.

“You’re naked!” exclaimed the dark skinned boy.

“Golly,” Risley said to Ifor, “Told you butt you didn’t believe me!” Risley grabbed his scrotum, rubbed his thumb down the skin in front of her.

“Don’t lose those,” the girl said to Risley.

“You’re looking—?” the light skinned boy started to accuse her.

“With these beauties?” the girl said, “What gives?”

“Good question,” Ifor remarked, he had no good answer.

“Going to the protest?” the girl asked.

Light skinned boy stood, pushed against Ifor’s side as he made for the door, pressed the button. The dark skinned boy elbowed Risley as he walked by. The girl, however, stood, gave Ifor a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hide them before you’re castrated,” she said.

The girl left with the two boys at the next stop.

“What’s the plan?” Ifor asked.

Risley sat on the bench seat sideways, dragged his butt, left a brown streak upon the light blue leather.

“Really?” Ifor asked.

“Pissed,” Risley said, “Okay, magic marker.”

“Don’t,” Ifor stated.

Pfffpt!

Ifor watched as Risley went to the next bench, smeared the brown as he dragged the anus across the seats.

“Feel like shit?” Ifor asked as the automated train crossed the Willamette River.

“You could say that,” Risley said as he stood next to Ifor, “Sorry—Grant…”

“Keep it up,” Ifor said as he watched Risley’s dick soften, “For him.”

“Union station,” Risley whispered into Ifor’s ear.

Ifor gripped Risley’s penis, teased the foreskin, drew the erection back out. He smelled the aroma of Risley’s shit smeared around as Risley led Ifor off the train several stops past the river. Ifor followed. Risley headed up the row of restaurants, most with outdoor seating filled with people ordering, dining, and staring at the pair of hard dicks beneath brown pubic hair.

“Showing it off, for Grant,” Risley said, though his dick softened.

Ifor caught glimpse of the flashing blue ahead, other people covered their eyes of their volition, and a few phones recording his hard cock.

“This way,” Ifor said as he gripped Risley’s arm, went into a bar.

Ifor tapped his foreskin against the hand of one of the surprised bouncers.

“Eluding, not staying nor drinking,” Ifor said as they went past, held onto Risley’s hand.

Unable to see his own dick in the thick crowd, Ifor felt several massages on his hard cock, before they made it to the back exit, and he opened the door. Risley came behind him.

“What’s that for?” Risley asked.

“Later,” Ifor said.

Ifor walked two doors to his left, entered the back of another building, across the alleyway from the first. A room full of strobe lights flashed around, crowded with an area in the middle where young adults danced. Again, Ifor felt getting touched, the masculinity of the hands. As Ifor was halfway across the room, he was shoved up against a table, his balls above it in the hand of a man twice his age while the other stroked Ifor’s hard cock.

“Excuse…” Ifor started to say toward this man intent on Ifor’s glans playing peekaboo, however, the pent up pressure exhausted itself. Pulsations as Ifor ejaculated into the hands of this stranger.

“How soon until you’re eighteen?” Risley shouted.

“Oh—sorry,” the stranger said as he backed away as fast as he could.

Ifor again, pushed through the crowd, errant fingers touched the semen on his softening dick, and they left the nightclub.

“Going for a handjob?” Risley quipped.

“Find time to be worried about that!” Ifor snapped.

Above, police helicopters shone lights at where they had been.

“Hurry,” Ifor said.

They walked along the street as several police cars drove past with their lights and sirens blaring.

“Odd,” Ifor said.

Pop! Pop!

Loud firecracker like in the background as another helicopter moved in. Ifor and Risley turned around for a moment, where the flashing lights of the police converged.

“Wanna check it out?” Ifor asked.

“Dead end,” Risley said, “Keep walking, running’s a giveaway.”

They walked more, by the post office, underneath the elevated roadway from the Broadway bridge, where Union Station was across the parking lot.

“This is what were you thinking?” Ifor asked as they loitered at the corner.

“Do I have to repeat the message?” Risley said, “We took the leap, doubt we want to go back.”

“Oh, there you are!”

Ifor and Risley glanced at a lady they didn’t recognize, waving at them. Ifor and Risley crossed the parking lot, to the woman wearing fur, as she stood next to a limousine. Risley pointed to his chest, she nodded. Her eyes moved over them, made no secret of her interest in the two naked teenage boys, their soft dicks dangled free beneath their pubic hair.

“These days everybody is rude, so busy, that they forget their obligations,” the lady said, “So, where is the third—I specifically asked for three.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—” Ifor started.

“We’re heading to Florida,” Risley said.

“I said New York—do I need to repeat myself?” the brown haired lady asked.

“Our destination lies in Florida,” Ifor said, picking up on Risley’s intent, “Dolbourne, Florida.”

“Stay right here—better yet, bring my luggage,” the lady said, “Can you at least keep that safe while I change the itinerary?”

Risley nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, “I’m Rosalina, but you can call me Rosa.”

Risley pulled on the biggest bit of matched luggage, a small handbag on top. Ifor grabbed the other, a slightly smaller suitcase with two bags.

“Know what you’re doing?” Ifor asked Risley.

Risley shrugged.

“Figured as much,” Ifor said.

They entered the station while Rosa, the brown haired Latino, spoke with an agent at the counter. She came back with a disposable paper soda cup.

“Oh, my bad for not mentioning it,” Rosa said, “Can you pee?”

“What?” Ifor asked.

“Pee, you know how do to that, right?” Rosa said, “As in right now, while I watch you pee.”

“Um…” Risley muttered. Ifor knew the hesitation, a socially polite spot in the train station.

“Here,” Rosa said as held the disposable paper soda cup beneath the penis, “Use this.”

Rosa waited, watched. Risley paused, glanced around, before he aimed his dick into the waxed receptacle in her grip. Risley’s yellow stream poured out as as he peed, partially filling the cup.

“Good,” Rosa said as she lifted the cup, her eyes on the light yellow as she sniffed at it, before she pored it into the nearby planter. She held the cup beneath Ifor’s soft penis. “Now you.”

Ifor felt the hesitation, as this older lady in front of him watched intently. Ainsley, Risley, or Grant were all different. However, it took Ifor a moment to trust Risley’s intuition, let his mind drift, before his darker urine flowed out.

“Don’t let yourself get dehydrated,” Rosa said as she walked around the boys, her hands patted their bare buttocks, felt their thighs, “You’ll do. First carriage, the conductor is my ex.”

…

“Nice riot,” Maev said, as she stood in the small room in Florida.

“Was hoping for a demonstration,” Alfonso said, “Rumor on a weed crackdown.”

“My idea,” Aleck said.

“It’s them!” Dorcia exclaimed as she viewed the security footage of Ifor and Risley pissing into the cup in the waiting room of Portland’s Union train station. “Who’s she?”

A chime on the tablet.

“Head start is over,” Aleck said, “Police bulletin—escaped and kill on sight. Positive match on surveillance cameras, they’ve being dispatched to the station, armed, along with the coroner’s van.”

“Oh no!” Dorcia shouted.

On the bottom part of the screen, a focused map showed the cop cars converging on the station. Above, noise and static as the image cut out.

“What the fuck?” Alfonso said as he began to change the .

“Cut at the source,” Aleck said.

…

Ifor and Risley walked to the left out of the station, pulled the luggage, to the first carriage, which was also the first car, ahead of the locomotive. This rail car tall enough for two floors, with a space of tinted glass to the front. A tall Latino man, with black hair, stood next to the door at the rear of the rail car, watched Risley and Ifor approach.

“Aw, excellent choices,” the man said.

“Nice to see you too Dexter,” Rosa said before she gave him a kiss to the cheek.

“Up the stairs,” Dexter said, “I’ll handle the bags.”

Ifor watched Risley’s butt as he climbed first, Ifor behind. Inside the large room was carpeted with furniture, including leather sofas and a coffee table. A single panel of solid curved glass served as the walls and ceiling. Through the glass, the station was to their left, the Willamette river to their right, and the rail that ran straight ahead.

“What—?” Ifor muttered.

“Smart,” Rosa said as she came up behind Ifor and Risley, “I hesitated when Rhetta suggested a vacation, but after she offered to babysit the kids too, how could I resist?”

“She’s a smart secretary,” Dexter said.

“Keep standing there boys,” Rosa said, her eyes aimed at them, “Show me what you have to offer.”

Rosa walked around them, her hand felt their backs, their buttocks. She brushed at Ifor’s pubic hair, felt his balls. Her hand gripped the flesh of Risley’s right buttock.

“Firm, good,” Rosa said, “I specifically told the agency three, I wanted three.”

Rosa took another walk around them, her eyes surveyed, pulled a knot out of Risley’s pubic hair.

“Don’t those things go up?” Rosa said, “Not only do I get shafted with two, it’s two who aren’t up to the job.”

Ifor had a suspicion of what they had gotten themselves into.

“We were three,” Ifor said, “Number three was killed by a jealous lover several days ago.”

Ifor caught Risley’s glare, ignored it.

“Ah, I understand,” Rosa said, “Dexter here, I love him, but after that botched surgery—well, kids were impossible. Aubley did give me kids, but he’s a sperm bank. Hold tight here, I’ll be back.” Rosa cinched up her fur. “Sit, if you wish.” She went back down the stairs, followed Dexter out the door.

“Did we sell out as hookers?” Ifor stammered.

“Look,” Risley said as he pointed to Ifor, “I was expecting to beg for tickets out of this shithole of a city. If she’s willing to take us to Florida, think I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” Ifor asked.

“Suppose you could ask your Dad for airfare,” Risley said.

Ifor shook his head. Ifor knew what his Dad would do, circumcise and hand them over to prison.

“Your dick for a ticket sounds like a fair trade,” Risley said, “Where’s the television?”

Ifor walked toward the kitchenette to the rear of the room, on the right near the doors. On the left an open toilet and shower, with a retractable curtain tied open. A bathtub and a queen sized bed ahead of it. Ifor walked over to the left side, a reflection of his soft dick dangled in the glass as he tapped on it, a menu showed up.

“Cool,” Risley said as he stood next to Ifor.

“Likely has voice control…” Ifor started before he saw the flashing blue. Police cars converged fast onto the station. Ifor bumped against the glass and they heard the motion outside. Risley and Ifor ducked down, watched.

“We’re looking for—” One officer said as he held out a picture.

Officers moved for the train, carried their rifles with them.

“You shall not pass,” Rosa said, at the door, “Do you know who I am? I have rights and I do not consent.”

“Ma’am—” Baines started to say to her, “These are dangerous—”

“Who’s your superior?” Rosa said, “I can vouch for my staff.”

“Alright, good day,” Baines said as he handed over a business card, “Let me know if you find them, we urgently need to put these pigs down.”

Baines moved past the locomotive to the next car. Rosa came up the stairs. Risley and Ifor stood.

“Are we in some sort of trouble boys?” Rosa asked, “Well, good thing I like naughty, firm, pork sausages.” She smacked her lips.

Ifor felt a bit of relief.

“A pick me up,” Rosa said as she handed them each a blue pill, along with a cup of water. Risley swallowed, gulped. Ifor did the same. “Show me.”

Ifor understood what the pill did the instant Risley’s dick began to elongate. Ifor’s flesh stiffened a moment later. Their dicks grew and firmed up into hard erections.

“Good,” Rosa said, “Not defective, you had me worried.” She gave a quick squeeze to each of their dicks. “Now, grab those stools…come.” She pointed as she sat on a red leather sofa, curled her legs beneath her.

Risley and Ifor grabbed two stools from the small bar counter, two of three of the same design, short stools that had two halves of soft clear plastic beneath a back. Rosa pointed, Ifor and Risley set them in front of the sofa. She motioned, waved them closer, until she could touch the stools without bending.

“Sit,” Rosa instructed.

As Ifor sat down, became clear the stools were not designed for his comfort. Instead, the each piece of plastic for the seat held a buttock, but also a design that encouraged his legs to remain spread, left his balls loose beneath, and back curved down to keep his anus mostly on display to her.

“Arch more, angle it,” Rosa said until Risley’s hard dick was a few inches from her eyes, his shins against the base of the sofa. “You too.”

Ifor moved until his left shoulder was against Risley’s right, both similarly positioned. She sniffed both of their hard dicks, brought out a tablet to hold it up until it was close to but not touching their stiff cocks.

They heard the door.

“Aw, settling in,” Dexter said, “Can I get you anything Rosa?”

“They need drinks,” Rosa said.

Ifor reached for his dick, she slapped his hand.

“No,” Rosa said to Ifor.

“We’re not thirsty,” Risley said.

“When Madam Rosa requests a drink for you,” Dexter said as he came over with two clear drinks, “You do not refuse.”

Ifor grabbed one, tasted the orange flavor over the carbonation as he drank. Risley drank his.

“As to any concerns about being spied upon,” Dexter said, “This railcar is equivalent to a modern penthouse. Guaranteed privacy with glass that is one way, you can see out but they cannot see in.”

“Have to admit this is a bit much,” Risley said as the train started to move.

“Bit late for second doubts,” Dexter said, “Do not fail to serve your contract even if you failed to read or comprehend it. Madam Rosa has a fondness for, how shall we say it, love tackle. After a botched illegal appendectomy, I’m unable to put up. Do not worry, Madam Rosa will not injure nor maim; you are safe in her hands even if it seems…eccentric.”

Dexter returned with a second round of drinks as they went through a freight yard, with its sea of rails. Ifor tasted the lemon lime as he drank it.

“With all this liquid—” Ifor started, aware what’s next.

“Quiet!” Rosa barked.

“Do not disagree with her,” Dexter said, “When you feel the urge, relax, give her a heads up, and let it go. Wait until she decides to tickle.”

Dexter left.

Ifor sat there, like Risley, to have her treating his hard dick inches away from her as an ornament made Ifor self conscious of it. She tickled Ifor’s foreskin, it retracted to expose his pink glans with its slit. She studied it, his slit bare to her from inches away, before she returned to tapping on the email on her tablet. Her breath swept frequently across their loose testicles.

Ifor frequently glanced as best as he could, outside the window, noticed them headed over the Columbia River—leaving the town set to betray him. In exchange for the trip, she wanted to stare at his hard dick for four days, worth it to Ifor, worth it to leave the hatred behind.

Rosa’s finger rubbed along their slits on the tips of their dicks as she read. A bit of moisture to Risley’s, and her finger moved below the slit, between the two halves of the glans converging beneath on the fulcrum.

“Um…” Risley muttered.

Rosa’s eyes snapped, focused on Risley’s pink tip to his penis, the slit that squirted out the golden stream, fast, hit her blouse. Rosa’s eyes clear, no other emotion on her face, she watched Risley piss at close range, until it petered out. Her eyes went back to her tablet, tapped, and a vampire fangs showed as the movie played.

Risley glanced at Ifor, Ifor shrugged. A bit surprised by her enjoyment of Risley’s piss, Ifor figured there were worse ways to earn a ticket out of Portland though he felt the bloating pressure.

Pfffpt!

Rosa’s eyes stayed on the tablet as her right hand reached, fondled Rilsey’s scrotum, her fingers caressed each round lump of his balls, Her hand moved upward, her palm against his pubic hair, while her thumb rested underneath his dick. Her eyes kept focus on the tablet while her fingers coiled around from the top side of his hard shaft. Her thumb rode his ridge beneath as it pulled along, her thumb plated itself onto his slit. Her fingers teased Risley’s retracted foreskin, the pink glans, while her thumb teased the fulcrum beneath the slit.

Ifor heard Risley’s moan before the exhale, recognized the pulsing of that stiff erection, as the off–white semen flew out, splattered on her stained blouse and tablet. Rosa’s eyes kept their focus on the tablet, despite Risley’s slit oozing, only her thumb pushed in a bit, felt the stickiness.

Pfffpt!

“Sorry, can’t hold—” Ifor stammered.

“Don’t hold,” Rosa scolded.

Rosa pushed Ifor’s hard dick to the side, held the balls as pressure released. Ifor caught glance of it, the slightly greenish brown dropped from his anus, thin but long, stretched downward as his bowels pushed it out. It repeated rapidly several times until a small bit hung out, dangled. Ifor exhaled. Rosa glanced at the small pile beneath Ifor, returned to her tablet. A minute later, Ifor felt the quench, the surge, without warning, as his hard erection peed, his yellow urine hit her mouth and she lapped at it. Backwash hit the tablet and it went dark.

“Not your fault,” Rosa said as she gripped his hard cock, kissed the slit.

A spasm, the attention of his dick more than he was used to, it responded as his semen shot out onto her lips.

“Sorry,” Ifor muttered.

“Need a smoke,” Rosa said. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes and stood. Dexter came in. “Keep an eye on them.”

“Understood,” Dexter said, “Smoking lounge is at the rear of the train.”

Rosa left the cabin. Dexter came over, put on gloves as he cleaned up Ifor’s pile.

“She’s left the cabin, you can stretch,” Dexter said, “If you need to potty, best to wait until she comes back.”

“What’s with her?” Risley asked as he went over to the kitchenette.

“Some years ago, Rosa had a nervous breakdown,” Dexter said as he prepared, “For some reason, found her cure in the young male libido. Though curious about your anatomy, she will not bed you—that would be considered inappropriate and adultery.”

“Seems a bit weird,” Ifor said as he stood next to Risley.

“You get transportation and accommodation for your travel,” Dexter said, “In return, you lend yourselves to relieve her anxieties, as it comforts here, that should be satisfactory. Now, I suggest another ill and more drinks until you’re perpetually—to her, it’s a good omen for a young boy, such as yourself, to pee onto her. If she could, she’d shower in it, but the agency could only pony up three, well two. And most do not complain like you do.”

“Sorry,” Ifor said, “First time.” Ifor drank the quart of carbonated mineral water.

Risley drank two, as they rode along the river past the first of its dams.

“Aw, we’ve all had our first job,” Dexter said, “Put the needs and desires of your client ahead of your doubts, and you will do fine. Out of curiosity, have you actually used those…specimens, in a woman?”

“Yes,” Risley said.

“Rosa’s not that sort of customer,” Dexter said, “Perhaps your next client—likely. Remember your client is renting your body to submit to their desires and fetishes; go along and enjoy the experience.”

Ifor was uncertain if his erection tried to go stiffer when Rosa returned, the smell of her cigarettes came with her. She sat down, smiled as Ifor and Risley resumed their positions on the stools. She ate some tortilla chips from a nearby bowl.

“Hmmm….hmmm,” Rosa said, “We’ll get along fine.”

Rosa’s hand reached over, felt into Ifor’s scrotum, held onto his balls; a working tablet was there where she continued.


	46. Journey

“Captain!”

Captain Alexis Sefton spun in her chair, faced the familiar man in the trench coat and sunglasses standing there.

“I understand you reinstated death certificates without bodies,” Baris said, “You interfered with surveillance at Union Station.”

“First, you assigned jurisdiction to Captain Kex,” Captain Sefton said, “I merely completed the transfer of responsibilities which included my hold on those original death certificates from the beginning of the month. If you’d like to to have the death certificates withdrawn, you’ll need to talk to the medical examiner.”

“Bureaucrat!” Baris snapped.

“As are you,” Captain Sefton said, “Second, this interference is news to me, can I have some details?” She took out a paper form, a police report, “Please?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Baris said.

“What game is that?” Captain Sefton said.

“I will have their heads on a pike, you can count on that,” Baris stated.

“As fugitives, that’s in the hands of the U.S. Marshals,” Captain Sefton said, “First, you’ll need to rescind their death certificates, they don’t hunt the dead.”

“A condition, I assure you, is temporary,” Baris said as he left.

* * *

Thursday, August 27th

Cody caught sight of the wire cutters on Marcia’s bedroom floor as he woke. He stood, his foot slid them beneath the bed. Cody walked past his white shirt and slacks, hung over Marcia’s chair at her desk, left the bedroom. Cody didn’t care he was naked as he went along, he didn’t feel like caring at all, as he went down the steps.

“Lovell,” Alyce said into the phone, “You promised that your house would be secure for them—they escaped!”

“Hi,” Cody muttered as he walked by her, went to the refrigerator.

“I ponied up bail money too!” Alyce said, “I thought it was a sure thing! I thought I could trust my son!”

“Yeah, right,” Cody muttered as he sifted through the options.

“You seriously think they’re going to be able to make their castrations this afternoon?” Alyce asked on the phone.

“What?” Cody stammered, coming over, “I can assure you—”

“How else do you calm somebody down enough to take in the Lord?” Alyce asked Cody.

Cody carried the small bucket of chicken up the stairs, he came to Risley’s purple bedroom, the door open, when he spotted them, the pair of yellow underwear, Grant’s underwear on the floor. Cody sunk as he entered Risley’s bedroom, sat cross–legged on the floor. He couldn’t help staring at them, a simple pair with the brown stain. He had gotten a medal for killing, for killing his friend, and Cody cried.

“Careful,” Marcia said, coming in, “It’s a cursed bedroom, make you into a fugitive. Like them.”

* * *

Rosa held Ifor’s hand as he climbed into the large wide though shallow bathtub, wide enough for two, full of the foam bubble bath, apple scent to his nose. He knelt, the testicles cleared the foam, and she poured water over his head. Her hand took a soapy washcloth, began to scrub his back.

“Good and healthy skin’s important,” Rosa said as they rode along in the train, the Great Plains of Montana rolled past.

Nearly a full massage, Ifor felt her hand against his muscles, from the shoulders down to above his bare butt. Ifor glanced at Risley on the bed, watching this.

While Ifor couldn’t understand why his boss was this interested, she had to be making up for something missing in her life, something he was a replacement for. Not that Ifor would complain about the treatment, there were plenty of worse ways to travel. An older lady, demanding that he be a boy in her presence, was an arrangement agreeable to him.

“Other side,” Rosa said, her hands went to Ifor’s hips, rotated him about. She cleaned his face first with a bit of body wash, before his chest. She sat on her knees, started pulling each strand of his pubic hair, out until it was tight enough for her fingers to rub and clean it.

Ifor’s flesh grew, a natural erection formed, jutted outward, one that he felt comfortable with. She smiled as she watched it stiffen, the hard cock was cleaned after his hairs were done. She carefully worked his foreskin, cleaned beneath it.

Ifor caught Risley’s smirk, pointing to his own balls, stuck his tongue out in return. Risley smiled.

“Soft, pliant,” Rosa said as she worked onto Ifor’s glans, “Talk to my husband and he’d say the boy should cut on his own dick, circumcise himself, to demonstrate his loyalty—I suggested he castrate himself, any guesses how that went? Suddenly, he went deaf, wouldn’t hear me until he decided to forgive and was miraculously cured.”

“We like our dicks as is,” Risley said.

Rosa’s washcloth moved to Ifor’s scrotum, she caressed and washed around each testicle.

“Gotta admit,” Rosa said as she inspected each strand of hair over Ifor’s balls, “You were the first to show up naked to the job—oh the complaints I’ve had when boys take a job not expecting to show themselves.”

“I’d rather be naked,” Ifor said, “Those are better out.”

“On your back,” Rosa said, “All the way in.”

Ifor laid into the bathtub, head up on the inclined porcelain, felt his leg being lifted. She rested the knee, calf muscle, on a small plastic stool. She worked a pumice stone at the thicker area of his heel, trimmed his toenails. Ifor hoped this treatment didn’t include nail polish.

“Nobody considers the therapeutic effects this—” she pointed at Ifor’s hard erection jutting up out of the water “—could have.”

“Damn right!” Ifor said.

“Most boys pee about now,” Rosa said.

Ifor realized he was a bit too relaxed to have considered this himself despite the pressure, yet the demand seemed reasonable. It was a performance, for her, like any acting gig. Ifor took a moment to yield to it, to begin to force the bladder to empty. She stopped and watched, his pink tip between them, as the yellow began to pour out, form a stream straight up, a bit more pressure and it rose even higher. After Ifor stopped, Rosa moved to Ifor’s right foot, and repeated the care washing on it.

Ifor caught the glance from Risley’s muddy blue eyes, simply grinned at Ifor. Ifor shook his head.

“Other side,” Rosa said, “Hands and knees.”

Ifor turned over, felt the brush scrub between his buttocks, around the hole.

“Most boys don’t even realize how dirty it gets,” Rosa said, “All it takes is a bit of effort.”

Ifor wanted to retort about how she wouldn’t let them wipe of their own initiative, but bit his tongue.

“There,” Rosa said, “Stand up.”

Ifor did this as the water drained from the tub. She took the wand, rinsed him off.

“And out,” Rosa said.

Ifor stepped out and she took a hot air blower to him. From head to toe, he was dried off, she spent a minute around his dick and his balls. A comb and a brush, she ran through his hair, focused on the pubic hair. Her hand cupped as she felt the ends of his bush above his stiff erection.

“I need a smoke,” Rosa announced. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes, left the railcar.

“That makes you look quite beautiful,” Risley said, still on the bed.

“Shut it!” Ifor said, “If she wants to clean me, she cleans. Felt good.”

“I bet,” Risley said.

Dexter came in, with a tray of food, lots of fruits and grains on it.

“Bacon and eggs would be wonderful,” Risley said as they went over to the small bar next to the kitchenette.

“She likes watching us poop,” Ifor said as he grabbed a whole wheat bagel, sat on a normal bar stool, “Which means—poop.”

“Glad you understand,” Dexter said before he left.

Risley sat next to Ifor, sniffed at the yogurt.

“Weird, that’s all,” Risley said.

“If only Grant were here,” Ifor said.

“If only we had decided to do this before…” Risley started.

Ifor understood. If they had insisted Grant come with them after the bible study, he’d still be alive. It took Ifor a minute.

“We were…too comfortable,” Ifor said, “Yes, we were on the wrong list, but we had food, shelter, and prospects. Now—now, we’re showing off our cocks so she can—read emails and watch movies.”

“So maybe she did have that nervous breakdown,” Risley said, “She’s certainly not determined to go anywhere but somewhere—otherwise, why’d she go to Florida instead of New York to suit us?”

“Maybe she’s trying to spite her husband?” Ifor asked.

“Idle speculation,” Risley said, “She’s obviously not a fan of flying, because if this is her rail–car—either she’s rich, or he is.”

“With kids,” Ifor said, “It’s getting us there, one dump at a time.”

“Wonder who she really hired?” Risley asked.

“Us,” Ifor said as he stared at Risley’s muddy blues, “She hired us.”

* * *

Friday, August 28th

Ifor woke to the fingers teasing his testicles, on the bed next to Risley, as Rosa leaned over them. Her fingers kept tickling. His bladder wanted to go, but he knew to wait on it, forced it to stay for the moment.

“So, that does work with you,” Rosa said, “Bath time.”

Ifor stood, glanced outside the railcar, the gentle flatness, the forms with some low trees as windbreaks.

“Flat, so flat,” Ifor muttered as he stepped into the bathtub.

“You’ve never been east?” Rosa asked.

“Nope,” Risley said.

“Both of you, in the tub,” Rosa said.

Ifor got into the tub, onto his back, with his legs bent up. Even with Risley to his right, not a full immersion, however his balls floated. Rosa leaned in from the end, her fingers teased both of their soft dicks. Her fingers moved to caress their scrotums, their balls.

“So, who are you?” Rosa asked.

“Are we not pleasing?” Ifor asked.

“I called the agency to put in a good word,” Rosa said, “They were under the impression that their talent had legal issues after participating in a riot.”

“I do not know this agency,” Ifor said, “After our friend was killed, we were eager to leave Portland. You’re nice and we accepted your offer. Thank you, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Risley quipped.

Her finger traced Ifor’s soft penis against his stomach, the tip of the foreskin aimed toward his naval. She lifted it, retracted his foreskin enough to let the slit expose itself. Ifor felt the tickling, the sign, and he let himself relax. Bubbling gold to start, Rosa moved his penis as the jet started up, the golden arch that hit Ifor’s stomach, Risley’s stomach, before she lapped at it for a moment until it petered out and stopped.

“My oldest is about your age,” Rosa said, her finger worked the ridge of Ifor’s urethrae, rubbed as the penis once again laid in his pubic hair, “Once I realized your names—you’ve been in the news as of late.”

“Been a bit much,” Ifor said as his flesh engorged itself in her grip, until it was stiff, “Is that desirable?”

Her eyes focused on his.

“Sorry if I was—” Ifor started, “You hired a pair of boys.”

“Adultery will not be tolerated,” Rosa said, “Your energy, it melts the years away.” She placed her hands on their testicles, her eyes drifted between them. “My current husband believes in chastity except in the lines of procreation. If it weren’t for the kids, I would have left him a decade ago.”

“Is our age a problem?” Risley asked.

“You’d be off the job if it were,” Rosa said, “I’ve paid for a job and I expect you to perform.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Risley said.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Rosa said.

“Need us to be naughty boys?” Ifor asked.

Rosa smiled as she glanced at him. However, Ifor didn’t feel like challenging the status quo too much, her fingering his skin in the hot water was nice.

* * *

Sunday, August 30th

Ifor reached around Risley as the train slowed to enter into the New Orleans train station, their knees on the carpet, Ifor held Risley’s arms, and both sported hard erections. Risley struggled for a moment, broke free, pinned Ifor down for a moment.

“Watch my butt!” Risley said.

“I am,” Rosa said from the couch.

Ifor wrenched, pushed upward with his feet against Risley’s stomach, tackled his friend. Ifor got on top, patted on Risley’s chest, and Risley laughed.

“Are you sure?” Risley asked.

“For the show,” Ifor said, “Yes.”

“You two—?” Rosa asked.

“Being naughty,” Ifor said as he lifted his butt, moved back, “Never done this before.”

Ifor lowered himself as the blue lights began to flash outside, he aimed Risley’s hard cock between his butt cheeks, felt the tip on his anus, when he caught the glimpse of the police outside.

“What now?” Rosa exclaimed as she got up. “Stay here.”

Rosa went down the steps. Dexter came up, with a cordless drill in hand.

“She’s got more faith than I do,” Dexter said to Risley and Ifor, “Move the bed.”

Risley and Ifor moved the queen sized bed. Dexter reached down with the drill, took out four screws.

“Lift the panel,” Dexter said.

Took Ifor a moment to see it, the edge, and they lifted it. A small compartment next to the glass.

“Hide,” Dexter said.

“Not very—” Risley started.

“On your side,” Ifor said, “Curled up, I’ll be in front.”

Risley curled up on his side, Ifor curled up, their legs against each other’s. Ifor’s back against Risley’s chest, felt the Risley’s erection against his own buttocks. Ifor’s foot still outside the small box.

“Bit more,” Dexter said.

Only one thought came to Ifor, he wedged the tip of Risley’s erection between the anus, moved, and it pushed inward. Ifor felt the stretching, the mild pain as it moved into him, brought his leg down. Ifor’s own cock brushed up against the metal in front of him, an inch from his nose, and the lid went over them. They heard the drill and the sliding of the bed.

“You—” Risley started.

“Think it’s comfortable?” Ifor said, “Think again.”

“No room—” Risley started.

“Shh!” Ifor snapped, as he felt the tremors in the smooth metal, watched the police and the US Marshals vanish.

“Two fugitives,” came the voice above, “Armed and dangerous.”

“I told you I do not consent!” came Rosa’s voice as crashes and thuds could be heard.

“These two are slippery,” the voice said, “Cooperate and we won’t let their blood ruin your carpet.”

“You’ll hear about this from my husband!” Rosa said, “Assaulting a law abiding citizen won’t be tolerated.”

“We know how law abiding you are,” the voice said, “How many did you hire this time?”

“They never showed up,” Rosa said.

“All cupboards and luggage searched,” came another voice, “No clothes fitting those bastards. Only hers and her ex–husband’s.”

“Adultery,” the voice said.

“We have separate sleeping arrangements,” Rosa said, “My ex is my employee, I already knows his faults.”

A crackle of a radio.

“Suspects spotted on Bourbon Street,” came the announcement.

“All clear!” the voice said.

Steps, and Ifor spotted the officers reappearing.

“Ma’am?” Dexter asked.

“Nobody else is aboard,” Rosa stated.

A few minutes later, the railcar began to move.

“My dick,” Risley whispered.

“Use it,” Ifor said.

Ifor felt it, an inch or so of slide. His own erection pressed against the metal, rubbed beneath his glans. A drill, the lid came off. Ifor’s left leg stretched out, the more room allowed for more slippage. Risley pushed in, pulled, the rhythm as Ifor’s glans was rubbed by the metal. Rosa watched as Risley reached around, held Ifor’s stiff cock. Ifor felt the spasm, the release. Pulse after pulse, his semen left a trail on the metal side.

“Naughty boys indeed,” Rosa said.

“They gave me no chance to open the another one,” Dexter said.

“You,” Risley said to Ifor.

“Give us a moment, please,” Ifor said as he stood, spotted Risley’s drooling dick.

Ifor motioned, Risley followed to the bar at the kitchenette, and they sat, facing each other; their dicks still oozing and dripping their off–white semen.

“Ris,” Ifor said, “Thank you.”

“Your bright idea,” Risley said,

“I’ll take it again, if you want,” Ifor said, “Listen to Jaimie, listen to what Grant told us, listen to me. Friends, good friends are beautiful—to me, you’re a beautiful friend even when you feel not. No shame in loving your friends, and I love you. No shame in getting off on them too, because friendship is beautiful. We need more love in this world, not hatred. People hate us because we’ve learned to understand us, won’t let them build up the hatred within us, hatred they use to control us. Hatred is convenient, because it lets people like Aubrey Wurtz build up their brand, unite those who think like he does, but ultimately, it divides us.”

“Glad you don’t like my husband,” Rosa said.

“Your husband?” Risley asked.

“Rosaline Wurtz,” Dexter said.

“Sorry, but your husband’s is why we’re running,” Ifor said, “His hatred was directed at us most of the summer, and it got our friend killed.”

* * *

Cody helped lift the handle of the coffin, Blake to the other side, along with the black uniforms of the Portland Police. They carried it to the open grave, and they set it onto the green, the late afternoon sun on them. In the front row, he recognized the parents of Grant, the mother crying, the father holding it back. Cody moved back, stood next to Marcia in her green dress. A man in white, stood up front.

“We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life, Romans 6:4,”1 the man said, “We gather today to bury Grant Jasper Barnet, so that he may walk with the Lord, in this we pray, amen.”

“Amen,” came the general reply.

Taps played in the background.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted, Mathew 5:4,”1 the man said, “Go in peace.”

Nobody eager to move, they stayed there as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Cody felt the guilt, as it was his hand that had slain his friend. Only the thought of Marcia by his side helped, he had to be strong for her.

“Come,” Marcia said.

Cody and Marcia headed back for the car, where Alyce helped Mr. Edgar Gillespie out of his wheel chair into the passenger seat. Cody and Marcia sat in the back, and they drove back to Strawberry Street.

“Suppose you two—” Alyce started.

“Later,” Marcia said.

“I need to go over to the church,” Cody said to Marcia.

“You’re always going there,” Marcia said.

“They need to go over my housing arrangements for seminary,” Cody said, “Later.”

Cody gave Marcia a kiss. Still in his blue dress shirt and black dress shoes, Cody made his way to Acts 1:8 Church. Cody crossed the sanctuary, entered the corridor, and went to the small meeting room. Baris was there.

“One down, two to go,” Baris said.

“They escaped,” Cody said.

“Even though they eluded the marshals does not mean they have escaped as I know their destination,” Baris said, “This is where you come in. See, Safari World Orlando is not too far away, so if you took your girlfriend there and she were to wish to see her brother, it would be purely coincidental.”

“Got Seminary,” Cody said, “Can’t miss that.”

“Seminary’s not for another week,” Baris said.

“I doubt I could talk them into returning,” Cody said.

“It’s a warehouse, industrial accidents have been known to happen, bad accidents,” Baris said, “Plenty of space to spare in the cemetery, if you get my meaning.”

“Kill them, you want me to kill my friends?” Cody asked.

“I did not explicitly state that,” Baris said, “However, the Seminary does have a grading scale, and it’d be unfortunate to flunk out. Your Seminary stipend, one you expect to support your pregnant girlfriend on, depends on keeping your grades up, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Cody said.

Baris slid a bit of plastic over, it bore Grant’s name, Grant’s credit card.

“It’s not been closed,” Baris said, “In case you needed something to cover the airfare for tomorrow’s flight.”

Cody took the credit card, slipped it into his pocket, and left the room. Cody walked aimlessly for a bit, along the streets as evening set in. Cody had already killed one friend, and was expected to kill two more. Cody walked along Lombard Street, made it onto Philadelphia Avenue, as the road began to rise. He tapped out two messages onto his phone, hit Send for both of them.

Ahead, towering and green, Cody walked onto the St. John’s Bridge, one that spanned the Willamette River two hundred feet below. Cody knew the answer, breathed deep, and embraced the arms of his Lord.

* * *

Monday, August 31st

Ifor tasted the bacon on his tongue, savored it, as the train slowed.

“Your destination awaits,” Dexter said to Ifor.

Ifor, though, watched Risley. Risley was twisted, propped up on the coffee table, his right leg up, his crotch showed to Rosa on the sofa; his semi–flaccid penis laid across his left wing of pubic hair, his balls rested between the spread thighs. Puddles of semen above his bush were partially held by the rope of licorice that was tightly tucked between the scrotum and thigh, to run up to his hip. Rosa twirled the rope as she lapped up the stickiness on him, set the licorice aside.

“It’s only cleaning,” Rosa said.

Ifor had heard _that_ excuse plenty since they started. Still, Ifor was less worried about his body than he had been in Portland.

“Clean it,” Risley said.

Rosa’s tongue licked along, removed the rest of Risley’s thick juice.

“Souvenir,” Ifor said as he grabbed a tall glass, brought it over to Rosa, aimed his dick, and urinated into it.

“Train, silly boys, waits for me,” Rosa said as she rose, “Pleasure’s been mine.”

Ifor wagged his butt as he walked toward the stairs, and they went down, to the door.

“This is it,” Risley said.

“After that?” Ifor said, “Only wish Grant were along for the ride.”

“In spirit, he was,” Risley said as he opened the door.

A red haired man, dressed in a suit, approached.

“Mr. Ulverston and Mr. Gillespie,” the man said as he extended a hand, “I’m Oswald Bell, welcome—over that way.”

Risley and Ifor shook Oswald’s hand before he pointed toward the teenage girl dressed in green, and two naked boys. Oswald got onto the train.

“It’s…” Risley said as he bolted, Ifor chased, across the platform. Locke and Jai were there, Locke’s circumcised penis dangled beneath his pubic hair, and both blushed.

“A convention—I’m Heather Detchant,” the girl said, “Forget anything?”

“Everything and nothing,” Ifor said, before his eyes returned to Locke and Jai, “You made it?”

“You two had everybody worried,” Locke said as he gave Ifor a quick hug, “Must admit, even with bible study, this skin uniform’s a bit nerve wracking.”

“You get used to it,” Risley said.

“Let’s get back to the van,” Jai said, “This way.”

Again in a group, Ifor felt comfort in the buttocks and dicks dangling loose, as they left the train station. Ifor thought his feet moved, accustomed to the motion of the railcar for the past several days. They walked across the dropoff and pickup lane, over to the parking lot, to the Pleiades Monastery van.

“Monastery?” Ifor asked.

“It’s what we use to get around,” Jai said as he opened the van door, “And license to be naked.”

Inside, with their tits out, sitting naked, Ainsley with her blonde hair and Dorcia with her brown.

“Busted,” Risley said as Ifor moved in.

Ifor squeezed between Ainsley and Dorcia, and his erection returned. Jai, Locke, and Risley got into the back.

“Hi,” Dorcia said, “We weren’t certain you got our message—glad it worked out.”

“Glad you made it out of West Virginia,” Risley said, “Grant’ll never know…wish he was here.”

“What happened?” Dorcia said.

“Wish we had stopped Grant from leaving,” Ifor said, “The one we thought our friend, the one that covered for us at camp, I guess he snapped, pushed him off the platform in front of a train, killed him—and got a fucking medal for it.”

Dorcia fingered Ifor’s erection.

“Don’t,” Ifor said, “Doesn’t feel right.”

“So, we’ve joined a cult of skin?” Risley asked. Ifor recognized the deliberate change in topic.

“Turns out we’re not the first group disgusted with the world order,” Jai said, “Been tried before—not to space, we’re the first there. Go somewhere into the woods, setup a little commune, anywhere on the planet, and it gets crushed—eventually. However, because of those previous attempts, people know how to give us that bubble to get it done. So, congratulations, you’re joining a monastery—glad you’ve already adopted the official robes, skin.”

“Brilliant,” Ifor said.

Oswald walked at a fast clip, Heather approached. Oswald got into the driver side, while Heather got into the passenger side. A rev of the engine as it started, and Oswald drove.

“No hills,” Risley remarked.

“Welcome to Florida,” Jai said, “I’ll miss that.”

“Portland wasn’t bad growing up,” Ifor said, “Portland turned on us, I’ll miss it too.”

“Good hiking,” Risley said, “Don’t suppose they’ve got that around here?”

“You two are wanted fugitives,” Heather said, “Leave the building and we can’t help you.”

“What kind of place is it?” Ifor asked.

“The best,” Dorcia said, “You won’t want to leave.”

Ifor snorted.

“You’re between us,” Ainsley said.

Ifor glanced down, his hips against theirs, both with shaved pubics, smooth skin to each exposed clitoris, near his hard dick.

“If this ain’t up,” Dorcia fingered Ifor’s foreskin, “We’ll be worried to your health.”

Rust on the sheet metal of the buildings they drove past, until they came to one large yellow building, a warehouse with its steel siding above the yellow brick of a small office space.

“If you’re allergic to skin, best to turn around,” Heather said.

“We’re NAKED!” Jai exclaimed.

Dorcia opened the van’s door; got out first. Ifor was behind her. Ainsley, Jai, Locke, and Risley followed.

“You all just arrived?” Ifor asked.

“No,” Dorcia said, “Got here last week, but we wanted you to feel at home, you know, make sure you got onto the right van.”

“No mistake there!” Risley exclaimed.

“I may be interested…” Dorcia handled Risley’s dick.

“Later,” Risley said.

“Are you sure you’re in the right spot?” Dorcia asked.

“We’ll explain, later,” Ifor said.

Ifor and Risley took the lead, entered the wood paneled lobby.

“Hey!” came Ardley’s exclaim, feet up on the desk, leaned back on the chair, cupping his balls, “Heard you were showing up!”

Ardley stood, shook Ifor’s and Risley’s hands.

“Nice seeing you again,” Ifor said, “When did you get the car back to Wyoming?”

“Funny you should ask,” Ardley said, “Got stolen from us middle of last week, we had to fly ourselves.”

“Oi!” Alfonso said as he came down stairs into the lobby, “You got some messages—marked urgent. I meant Risley and Ifor here.”

Alfonso handed Ifor a tablet.

“Use the conference room,” Ardley pointed.

Ifor and Risley took the first right, into a conference room with vertical windows. Alfonso closed the door, left Ifor and Risley in the room alone.

“Almost expecting Rosa…” Risley said as Ifor sat.

“Think I’m done with sex, for a week or so,” Ifor said.

Ifor activated the message on the tablet, a video message.

“Greetings,” Captain Alexis Sefton said, “Was a bit worried until you got onto the train, even then, I was uncertain if you’d be safe. I took a leaf from Captain Shrader and reinstated your old death certificates, it saved you a couple of searches at least. Understandably, your parents will be hit hard by this, but do not dwell. It’s normal to spread your wings and leave their nests, been that way for time immemorial. Good luck and God speed.”

Ifor paused.

“She contacted—” Risley started.

“She knows more than she lets on, more than Dad knows,” Ifor said, “Between him or her, I’d trust her.”

Ifor moved onto the second letter.

Ifor & Risley,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust—you will never understand the pressure that made me snap. I’m sorry I trashed the kindness, the friendship, that you blessed me with. I returned the favor with blood, sacrificing two, and greatly wounding all. I regret my actions.

I hope you are successful, that your path leads you to unending bounty. And I hope you find it within your hearts to forgive me, not for my sake, but for your own. May we meet up in the great beyond and repair the wound, but I will not expect it.

Cody.

“Delete it,” Risley stated, “He killed—”

Ifor moved onto the third message, from Marcia.

“He jumped from St. John’s,” Ifor said, “Dead.”

* * *

1 _The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version_ , Second Edition, Thomas Nelson Inc, 1971.  



	47. Epilogue

Sunday, August 8th, the next year

Ifor chimed his glass in the conference room, a small cake with candles on it. In the room, Maev, Dorcia, Risley, Jarred, and a handful of others.

“Two flights down, nothing’s been heard since the first one landed with a distress call about oxygen, yet, we’ll willing board those next flights,” Ifor said, “In part because of the loss of the friends we left behind before we came here. I know I was complacent, comfortable, even as they were plotting to castrate me. I miss my friend, Grant, dearly; I hope to carry his spirit with us. Part of me hopes in an afterlife, as it’d be nice to chat with him one more time. Anyways, lets remember those we’re leaving behind.”

Glasses up, and chimed them together.

* * *

Tuesday, September 14th

It was already dark outside when Lovell entered Captain Sefton’s office. She glanced up at him.

“You wanted to see me?” Lovell asked.

“Yes,” the Captain said, “I’ve got something I need to show you, sit down.”

Alexis turned her tablet, pressed play on the video clip, and showed it to Lovell. A grainy surveillance video, of Ifor climbing into the payload fairing of the Atlas rocket, one of over two dozen naked teenagers, two pairs of tits to the dick. It cut to a more distant picture of the rocket igniting, lifting the payload upward.

“That was a week ago,” Alexis said, “Since then, nothing has been heard, like the three flights before it.”

“There were supposed to be five—what about the fifth?” Lovell asked.

“It’s leaving, on schedule, next month,” Alexis said, “It’s a Darwin operation! To be done in time for the presidential election.”

“And you’re going to sit there, watch another group of bright kids walk to their deaths?” Lovell said, “What kind of sick organization has this police department enslaved themselves to Alexis? They killed my son, God dammit! Third time’s the charm, right?”

Alexis turned to look out the window, she could see the moon loitering above.

“It’s not easy, it never has been easy,” Alexis said, “This world we live in would never tolerate them.”

“All those times Ifor rode my patrol car,” Lovell said as he reached for his shoulders, “All those memories…for what?”

Lovell removed the Sargent pin from his collar, his badge from his uniform, and set his police handgun onto the desk.

“I know my way out,” Lovell stated.

Alexis watched Lovell leave the office, before she took the badge, held it.

“About time you wised up,” Alexis said to the badge. She caught a brief flash, glanced back at where that dot of lite that went bright before going dark. She thought about those remains that would haunt the moon until it left the earth.

* * *

“Not again!” Risley muttered, the blackness of space behind him.

Ifor held the mirror again, wondered if he was frying the Earth with it. Risley’s fingers, in the transparent gloves, picked up the bolt from the loose regolith beneath them, and he inserted it.

“I’m afraid you’re past your allotted time,” Alfonso said, his voice crackling over their local radios, “Come back in.”

Ifor felt the regolith beneath his transparent vinyl boots, ones that compressed against his skin like the rest of his suit, a suit that kept the pressure against him, as he breathed. Risley and Ifor made for the hatch. Transparent suits form fitted around the balls and the buttocks.

“After you,” Risley said to Ifor at the hatch.

Ifor climbed into the hatch, Risley got in. Ifor glanced at the yellow flow within the tubes as Risley peed, collected in the bag against the thigh. As the indicator turned green, Ifor lifted his helmet off his head. Ifor removed the transparent vinyl for the spacesuit, suitable for daytime use. Ifor glanced at Risley’s exposed skin, shiny from the sweat, when Ifor’s penis firmed up into a stiff erection. A quick wand of the water spray, Ifor rinsed Risley’s butt over the bowl, the water collected. Risley and Ifor left the hatch, entered the small control room.

“How soon until we can go out?” Ifor asked.

“Eight hours, minimum,” Alfonso said.

Risley planted his lips onto Ifor’s, kissed, before Ifor laid Risley onto the control console.

“Hey!” Alfonso said, “Not right there—move it anywhere else!”

Risley moved to the floor, while Ifor crawled on his hands and knees, straddled Risley. Ifor pushed Risley’s legs upward, held the hips, and threaded his hard erection between Risley’s buttocks.

“Oh,” Ainsley said, “That again?”

Dorcia shrugged.

“Now that it’s over,” Maev said, nearby, “Give you our mind for making us think you were all dead!”

“For that, we apologize,” Alfonso said, “Best for tactical reasons, make the pengus think their plan worked.”

“Missed me?” Risley asked Ifor.

Ifor pushed, pulled, and drilled, until he ejaculated onto Risley’s scrotum.

“Me too,” Ifor said.

“We figured that,” Dorcia said.

“Let em talk,” Alfonso said, “Not like there’s any privacy here.”

“Thanks,” Ifor said to Alfonso.

“Show you where to get properly clean,” Risley said, “Not pretty, but it’ll do.”

A chime came from Alfonso’s tablet.

“Can you remember to check your messages?” Alfonso snapped at Risley.

“Thought you were—?” Ifor started.

“Been on the server since APRIL!” Alfonso said.

“Read it,” Ifor said.

“Not this again—likely something stupid from my sister,” Risley took the tablet, raised his voice to mimic Marcia’s, “Dear Risley, they say it’s ludicrous, talking to the grave, but it’s your grave that makes things clear. I’ve given birth—”

“What?” Ifor stammered.

“—to a boy,” Risley said, “I was torn on what to call him, either after you or his father, however, his father will only have one kid, this kid. So, Uncle Risley, say hello to Cody Austin Gillespie—” Risley sputtered.

“That little fink,” Ifor said, “Hitting on your sister—”

“I guess so!” Risley said, “—I’m not asking you to look over him, that’s Cody’s affair. But please look over the next ones. Sincerely, your fairest sister, Marcia.”

“When we end our silence, I say write her back,” Ifor said.

“My fairest sister?” Risley spat.

“How often do you talk to a grave and the grave talks back?” Ifor said, “Once we can, let’s do that. There’s still some friendly people down there, I’m sure one of them would do that for us.”

Risley laughed. “Good one—put it on the wish list.”

**THE END**


End file.
